Rewire
by chloe.quinn.96
Summary: Drawn back into work by a brilliantly dangerous adversary Impulse will be dance the lines between justice and revenge. After all, all is fair in love and war. [Sequel to Glitch. Contains elements of YJ]
1. Chapter 1

" _I didn't mean to hurt them – honestly. They just made me-"_

" _Mad?" The older woman cut off the frightened teenage girl, whom cowered in a bloody hoody, her eyes darkened with fear and panic._

 _The girl looked up, wary. "Yeah."_

 _To the girl's surprise, the woman smiled. "That's all right. I can help you with that."_

 **Chapter 1 Reckless**

 **At** thirty thousand feet there aren't a lot of escape options. With one engine already dead, the other fading fast, time was running out. In the pilot seat Mei, not usually one for _flying_ , wrestled with the controls whilst the commotion in the back was dealt with. I spun on my heel and surged into the main area, where I had a fist fly at my face. Side-stepping, I grabbed their shoulders and flipped myself around them, then flicked with my hips, driving into the ground. They fell limp beneath me. I looked up and found Shadow, the third of the party, staring at me with an arched brow.

"So it was a little showy, so what?" I said as I knelt by the closest body and started to search his pockets. "You were taking too long."

He held out one hand, a thumb drive propped up between two fingers. "So much for one little drive."

The plane jolted violently, throwing both of us to one side. I scrambled to my feet and spun around.

"Try not to kill us please!" I yelled back to the cockpit.

"Funny, I thought you had a death wish!" Mei retorted.

I laughed. "That was one time in Milan and it wasn't a death wish. I was _bored!"_

"You jumped off a skyscraper _without_ a parachute or anything."

Chuckling, I strode into the cockpit, followed closely by Shadow. "The booze was dodgy and the people stuffy. I thought I would spice things up. Seemed fair since they didn't know we practically robbed them all blind. Besides, I _did_ get to the car faster than you, now didn't I?" I glanced at the flashing controls. "We're going to have to do a Milan, aren't we?"

Mei gritted her teeth, then nodded. "Preferably _with_ parachutes."

I glanced back to Shadow. "See if you can find some."

Nodding, Shadow retreated. I set my hand on the back of Mei's chair, eyeing the buttons and lights like I had some idea of what was happening. I knew computers, fine – hacking was one thing but there was an element about planes and their computers that wigged me out. Maybe it was the creepy feeling of being part of a plane, feeling the world fly past me, and the ground thousands of feet below, but I didn't like hacking planes.

"I say we've got about five minutes before that engine goes and we go goodnight forever," Mei spat. "Damn! I had a reservation at Mario's tonight with my husband and you've made me late!"

"How is this _my_ fault?" I cried. "I didn't blow up the engines!"

"No but it was your _brilliant_ idea to take the plane now. We could've waited until they touched down in Moscow," replied Mei coolly, her eyes flashing with anger. "And yes, I know you had the deal that went south but we would've figured it out."

" _Now_ you voice your disapproval?" I replied archly.

Mei shot me a scathing look and went to reply but Shadow appeared, holding _two_ bags. Without speaking I grabbed one and set it next to Mei. I sighed dramatically and slid past Shadow.

"Guess this _is_ Milan all over again."

Shadow slid his parachute on as he joined me at the back. A moment later Mei reappeared. Behind her I'd seen she'd melted the seat over the controls, holding it in place. A temporary fix. She looped her bag on and gave me a wary look, as if I wasn't about to jump thirty thousand feet without a parachute, and pray I timed my teleporting enough that I didn't become a pancake. Shadow cleared his throat and gestured for us to prepare. I touched the floor and morphed the ground beneath me into straps around me, anchoring me until it was good to jump. Mei hunkered down behind a row of seats, half buckled in, and held up a hand, signalling she was ready.

Shadow wasted no time and hurled a bolt of black energy at the door. The air exploded with a thunderous roar; the pressure almost crushing, and the air became impossible to breath. I looked up and watched as Shadow hurled himself out the door, vanishing. Nodding to Mei she launched out of her hiding place and leapt out, gracefully somersaulting on her way down. I let out a cry of laughter as I freed myself and threw myself out the door.

* * *

 **Bart Allen** stared at the ring in his hand, wondering if it was too much. Maggie was a quiet soul, gentle and soft. She liked simple things, big books and endless pots of tea. A real book worm. As her face lit up in his mind he smiled, and felt ready and sure. For her, he'd happily hung up his suit and put that life behind him. With a nod he closed the ring box and put it in his pocket, hidden deep. It was baggy enough that it was impossible to see.

Looking out across the sprawling Central City Park, the sun bathing it all in a soft, golden glow, he knew it was the right place. A few couples were sprawled out on blankets; others played fetch with their dogs and young children tossed balls to each other. A soft breeze swept across it all, stirring up soft flurries of leaves. He closed it his eyes, felt it touch his skin, and basked in the warmth of the sun.

As he opened his eyes he glanced at his watch. His brow knitted together, puzzlement etched on his face. Maggie was late. He looked about, trying to pin her in the multitude of people about, yet to no avail. It was unlike Maggie to be late. She was always the punctual one, which was ironic since he could run faster than a speeding bullet. Which led to her lecturing him about punctuality. He'd smile and nod, then kiss her cheek, which would make her laugh and shake her head. Very little ever seemed to ruffle her or make her angry. There was a peace about her that was infectious, like a glimpse at a paradise.

"Bart!" Maggie called out.

Snapped from his thoughts he looked to the source and saw Maggie jogging up to him, her face flushed. She stopped before him but didn't smile like she usually did; there was a smile but it didn't have the same glow, the same light about it. It vanished as she sat down next to him.

"Never thought I'd see the day when you were _late_ ," he joked.

That seemed to light her up. She grinned. "I'm turning over a new life – me, the adventurer!"

He took the opening and stood up. Confused, she watched as he moved in front of her; in that moment it began to dawn in her eyes, distant and flickering.

"On the note of adventure I was hoping that you'd like to go on a new adventure with me," he said as took a knee, watching as her eyes began to widen with shock. "Maggie Alma Hudson, would you do me the honour of being my wife?"

She jumped to her feet, pale with shock. Her lips trembled but no sound came out, no words. No _yes._ Not the words he was dying to hear. As he knelt there he drew some glances from people nearby but he didn't care. His heart was racing madly inside of his chest, wondering why she hadn't said a word yet. Any time he'd seen someone propose they always seemed to blurt out yes straight away, sometimes before the question was fully out. Yet Maggie stood before him, pale and startled, a deer in headlights. A thousand things seemed to be racing through her mind – was she torn? His heart began to twist, like someone had driven a knife into it.

"Mags? Mags if this isn't a good time you-" He froze when he realised she was crying. Jumping to his feet he took her hands, yet found them stiff and cold to his touch, and she didn't grab him back. In fact, he swore she seemed to pull back a fraction. "Mags-"

"No."

He pulled back and stared at her. "No – no as in not now? As in-"

She stepped away from him, hands firm at her side. "No, as in not ever. I-I can't do this anymore. I can't be with you anymore. Please – please understand and…and don't come after me."

She spun around and strode off, practically _running_ away from him. In his hand, the ring box felt like ice – all he wanted to do was hurl it as far as he could but he couldn't move an inch. All he could do was watch as she walked away, not looking back even once.

* * *

 **In** the Watchtower Bruce sat in his private office; the only other place aside from the Bat Cave he did research, and only specific work was done in the Watchtower's office. The subject of which was sprawled out across several screens; reports of high stake thefts, mysterious groups infiltrating areas in conflict, shadowy deals between known supervillains and other dubious activities. Amongst was a few blurry photos; most contained what appeared to be different people, yet in every one there was common theme. A woman. Well, going off the rough shape, he assumed it was. He couldn't see her face. In one, he did get a side on but it was so grainy it was impossible to know her face clearly.

Lost in thought he barely heard the blip of the door behind him. He blinked and tapped the keyboard before him, the door whirring open in response. In came _Rewire._ Max's surviving half, whom had somehow found herself a teacher for the side kicks and youths of the League, not a full member. Her decision, though he didn't mind much. Mercifully, though, she bore very little traits with Max; both in voice, character and look. Where Max wore her hair short, almost pixie-like, Rewire – or _Ellia Wilson_ , she was known by – wore her long _black_ hair in a neat pony tail.

"You called," she said in a languid drawl, though he didn't miss the stirring curiosity and surprise in his voice. Since she had joined the team a few years ago he'd always been fairly distant with her, dealing only when he had to.

He gestured to the screen. "What do you make of this?"

She turned her head to the screen and stepped forward. For a few minutes she examined it slowly; then, after a pause, she touched the keyboard and the files on the screen glitches for a second. He didn't react. It was her way of downloading and processing digital information. When she was done she stepped back and turned to him.

"I've heard of them. They've been active for decades but I've never seen them. They're the ghosts of the underworld but I heard if you want something or someone, they're who you go to," she replied. "They're not exactly supervillains; more like expensive spies and mercenaries. They don't give a damn about world domination."

"You're wondering why I'm investigating them?"

She tilted her head, a stray strand of hair fell to the side of her mask. "Honestly? I don't care but if this becomes a League mission I may need to adjust my training. These guys are _ghosts_ for a reason. They're beyond good."

"You sound in awe of them," remarked Batman.

"They're skilled and that takes time and hard work. I respect their _skill_ – not _what_ they do," she reminded him. "Beyond that, I know little of them. You want to bring them in?"

"I like to monitor parties like this," he said cryptically.

She stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. "If there's nothing else?" When he shook his head she nodded and went to the door. "Oh, one more thing. Friendly warning, Batman. These people aren't like me or max…They're…"

"Killers?"

She chuckled as she walked out.

* * *

 **OLYMPUS** was ominously busy in a frantic way when we all came in through the door. Few paid us any attention, which was weird after the stunt we just pulled and the mission we finished. Normally, there was a small group waiting for us with excitement, eager to hear all about our exploits. Frankly, the lack of attention was disappointing. Yet Mei, whom normally found the attention frustrating, seemed unsettled by the lack of it.

Shadow glanced about, then turned to us. "It seems something is amiss. I should go see Em."

Mei and I nodded. Shadow slipped away into the crowd, vanishing like his name. With that Mei and I pushed into the crowd, hearing words like 'attack' and 'prisoners' stir up. I glanced at Mei but she was too focused on our destination to get any comment from her. Very little unsettled me but her silence did it. I went first into Hera's office, holding it open as she followed me in. As I closed the door behind us Mei went up to Hera.

"What's happened?" Mei asked.

I turned around, just as Hera did – all six foot of her, with her athletic frame and sharp, almost hawk-like face, and long icy blonde hair pulled into a severe bun. Not a strand of hair was out of place. For all the chaos going on she appeared eerily calm, which wasn't overly surprising, since I could probably count on one hand how many emotions I'd seen her show aside from the stone cold mask. Those cerulean blue eyes flickered briefly to me before returning to Mei.

"There has been attack on several of our sister branches; Ireland, Australia, Japan, Russia to name a few," said Hera, tapping the tablet in her hand. Behind her images of the destroyed offices flashed up, oddly void of bodies. "It seems all were taken prisoner – or their bodies were removed."

Mei slumped into a chair, pale. She'd been dating a guy from the Irish branch and it had gotten serious recently. I set a hand on her shoulder and looked back to Hera.

"We have a mole," I murmured.

Hera nodded. "Indeed. Whoever they are they are working with some very powerful people." She turned to Mei. "Mei, I require a word alone with Ava."

Obediently Mei got up and left the office, closing the door softly behind her. When I turned around Hera had swiped the images off the screen and she was leaning against her desk, studying me with those unsettling eyes of hers. Honestly, she won points for being just plain creepy some times.

"So, if this is about the plane incident-"

"It's not. Ava, I never asked you why you didn't follow your father's path – when I recruited you I was quite surprised when you said yes," she inquired.

There was a hidden meaning to her words but I couldn't figure it out. Why was she curious about my past? Now, after all these years? It hadn't been important then and it scarcely mattered now. Leave it to Hera to ask one out of the blue question and throw you so off course you're mute for a good couple minutes. I blinked a couple times, recovering; slowly, but surely.

"Because that's not who I am," I replied honestly.

"So it's for the money?"

"Pretty much."

She nodded but didn't seem surprised by my answer. That, in itself, wasn't a shock. I'd never made any claims to be anything other than what I was, or that I liked money. That, and the challenge of the work, of living beyond the rules written up by stuffy old people, was always attractive.

"Worried I might defect?"

One eyebrow rose faintly. "You could never be a hero, Ava. It's not you but that's why I like you. You're unashamedly honest about who you are. No, I asked for several reasons. Now, come here, I want to show you something."

I approached her warily. Yet the second I was within reach her hand flashed out and clamped around my wrist. There was no time to react, to think, as images exploded through my head; tearing through me like a tsunami, no time to focus. Sounds howled through my ears, a cacophony of the impossible. Then the darkness came and swallowed me whole.


	2. Chapter 2

" _She'll be stronger than me. She'll need you to keep her safe, guide her, do what I can't," said the woman, looking down at the baby in her arms._

 _The young man before her nodded and gently lifted the baby from her arms. "How long do you have?"_

 _She looked to the sky, her eyes reflecting the stars. "She's calling. It's time."_

 **Two. Escape**

It was the jolt that tore me from the haze. My head throbbed with response, a hard pulse behind my eye. With a groan I tried to force my eyes open but it was like they were glued shut, defiant to my every will. Forcing myself to relax I strained to make sense of the sounds around me; the soft hum of a radio, though I didn't recognise the channel; the mechanical whir of an engine, a small van by the sounds of it; the squeak of metal with each jolt, which sounded like it was coming from beneath me. There was also the distinct bleach smell clinging to the air, soaking into my skin. Clearly, whoever had me, had cleaned recently.

I dragged in a deep breath. Despite the smell there seemed to be no drugs in the air to knock me out and, given what my body was likely trying to force out, fresh air couldn't hurt. Time would cure it, though. I only hoped I could clear my head before I got to wherever I was being taken…Yet if I escaped then I could lose the chance if, whoever had me, had taken my team, too. However, there was a great chance of being stuck in a cell without a viable escape, likely drugged – well, I'd have someone like me drugged. So I resolved in my mind and tried to open my eyes again; slowly, but surely, light crept in through a tiny slit. It was blinding. I slammed my eyes shut, feeling the sting of the light. The lingering burn made the ache in my head thump harder, causing me to wince.

Nearby, I heard the radio crackle again; this time, a voice bled through, muffled, as if from the front seat – if I was right about being in a van. "V-2, are you on route?"

"Affirmative, Central. On route. Time to arrival, two hours. V-2 out."

"Acknowledged."

The radio died. _Dammit._ I'd hoped for a little more than two hours. Whatever had been done to be was fading but I had no way to know if two hours was enough to escape. If I even had enough strength to fight when I got out, if it came down to it. If I did, I wanted to be strong enough to make this prick sing like a canary.

 _Focus, Ava. You've been trained for this._

Which was true. I'd been trained endlessly for this stuff. I'd trained to survive, to _win._ There was no way I was going to lose, to _allow_ myself to stay a prisoner.

Again, I forced my eyes open, gritting my teeth to the throbbing agony as light burned my eyes. I wanted nothing more than to howl with anger and pain but I held firm, not even uttering a word. With each breath my strength slowly returned to me, dribbling back with agonising slowness. It gave me a sliver of hope. I forced my eyes to stay open, biting back a hiss of pain. The world, still too bright to make sense of, seemed to tilt and roll, and the smell of bleach grew stronger. Even the sounds grew louder and louder, almost too much to bear. It made me want to slam my eyes shut, pretend it was all some big nightmare. If I did that, if I didn't get out, I risked falling into someone else's little experiment and I was _no pawn_ of _anyone._ Hell or high water, I was getting out and someone was going to wish they were dead. Or multiple people. I wasn't feeling very merciful.

It felt like an eternity as the bright world slowly dimmed, shapes and details slowly appearing. The cracked vinyl of the seat before me; the harsh row of lights above; the back door; the tiny window looking into the front seat. From where I sat I could see the night sky, clear and bright, but no distinct land markings and no signs. It was even too hard to see the stars properly, to use them to orientate myself. Though I knew I was two hours away from my supposed destination that offered very little, since I had little indication of how long I'd been out for. For all I knew I was in another country.

I looked about but found my head restricted, strapped down, and there was a mask over the bottom half of my face. There was straps around my hands, across my chest and stomach, as well as my ankles to. Luckily, my hands weren't pressed flat. _Big mistake kiddies._ I snapped my fingers, summoning up a small sphere of energy. Closing my eyes I fed it, made it grow and grow and grow. The energy surged inside of me, relishing at the freedom. At me shattering the carefully built walls and slashing the chains that kept my power in check.

The energy inside me exploded.

I laughed as the world was consumed by it.

* * *

" **You** sure it's a good idea for you to be back at work?" Tim Drake asked as they sparred, sounding a little more wary than Bart liked.

Like he was fragile. Or he'd snap. He wasn't but that didn't stop people from walking on egg shells around him. Mags had left. They all knew. He didn't hide it, didn't want to dwell on it or think about where he'd screwed up so badly that he'd made her leave him. Just as he asked her to _marry_ him. Geez, at what point had they left the same page? They'd somehow ended up on completely different books.

Shaking his head he drove forward, blurring with speed, driving his fist into Tim's side – or tried to. Tim had spared with him tons of times and effortlessly predicted it, flipping out of the way. He stopped and tilted his head to the side.

"All I'm saying is-"

"I'm _good_ ," cut in Bart. "I got dumped, that's all."

"You asked her to _marry_ you and she said no _and_ left. Has she gone back and got her stuff yet?" Tim asked, flying forward with a closed fist.

Bart, reminding himself not to use his speed, leapt to the side and deflected the blow. "She waited until I left for work yesterday, then got everything. When I got back all her stuff, nothing more or less, was gone."

"Rough." Tim was distracted and Bart flipped him over his shoulder.

Scrambling to his feet Tim dashed forward and came at him, fast for someone without super speed. He punched and swept off Bart's blows, then flipped back when the fighting got too close. Bart spun on his heel, just as Tim came for round two, and drove his fist into Tim's side, winding him. Staggering forward, Tim held up a hand and walked over to the nearby table where he gulped down some water. Bart, too, craving a drink, joined him.

"All I'm saying is don't beat yourself up about this _too_ much but if you ever want to talk about it-"

"You're here to listen?" Bart replied. "Isn't that what we're doing?"

Tim shot him a dry look. "Funny but this isn't talking about it when you're dodging what happened."

"My girlfriend left me. It sucks. She didn't say anything before hand and I had no idea she was miserable enough to leave. Just wished she'd said something. Happy?"

Tim shrugged. "Okay, that's enough sparring today. You want to head to the bar, get a drink?"

A drink sounded wonderful. Probably not a wise idea, given what had happened, but Bart just wanted a drink. Something to numb what happened. Make him forget about Mags for a bit, about that smile of hers. Just everything about her.

After they showered and changed they walked down the road to the nearest bar, which was fairly quiet on a Wednesday, humming with soft country music. A couple people sat at the bar, nursing drinks, some more stoically than others. By an old juke box a young couple, barely old enough to drink, giggled together. Behind them, in a booth, a lone girl sat with a drink. She was pretty, in an unassuming sort of way. Maybe the night wouldn't be _so_ bad after all, he thought as they walked up to the bar, considering how he was going over to say hello. As he ordered his drink he saw a guy come out of the toilets and sit down with her, holding her hand warmly.

"Oh well, plenty of girls out there," consoled Tim. "However…"

Bart glanced at him, one brow lifted faintly. "However?"

"I know you and you're probably going to go out and find the craziest, most wild girl you can. Then it'll blow up in your face. Just be careful, okay?" Tim warned, studying the drinks with mild interest. "You wear your heart on your sleeve with those girls and they've always broken it before."

With a drink in hand Bart didn't feel like replying to that. Mainly because there was too much evidence to argue. Before Mags there had been a steady string of quiet girls, followed by the wildest he encountered. Some lasted a few months. One, a girl named Mel, had lasted a year but she fell in love with an artist and ran away to Paris with him.

"I promise the next girl I date will be normal."

Tim peered at him sceptically. "Want to bet?"

* * *

 **Wally West** woke up, his skin slick with sweat. The crystal hung around his neck glowed with a startling heat. His hand fell to it and felt the call. Closing his eyes he sunk back into the bed and let the crystal pull his mind far away, to a dream land of endless fields and a sky with twin moons and a blanket of stars. He took shape and stood there, his bare feet tickled amongst the silk-soft grass, and his skin brushed with a soft midnight breeze.

A familiar feeling tickled his the nape of his neck. He didn't have to turn around to have to know who it was. Barely a breath later a young woman glided beside him, swathed in a gown made of starlight. He smiled when he saw her, an old friend.

"You called, Max," he said, using her mortal name.

The corner of her lips twitched. It had been a long time since she used that name. Earthly names held little point given what she had become. Still, there was enough of her old self in her to smile, to remind him that the old Max wasn't completely gone. Still, as her eyes darkened, there grew a grimness and weariness with an ethereal glow.

"It has been long for you, hasn't it?" She asked, her voice soft and ghostly, threaded with a gentle hum of energy.

He nodded and followed her gaze to the stars. "Twenty years. Ava's grown up. She's become a woman."

Max nodded, though his words hardly seemed to register. "Do you remember what I said to you when I sent you to earth?"

"That 'they' would come for her – is that now?"

She glanced at him; her eerie eyes, once dark and luminous, now shone with the universe within them – a billion trillion galaxies, an endless universe. Looking into her new eyes was enough to send someone mad. Wisely, he looked away. She turned her gaze back to the stars. "Not yet. Soon. Before she can claim her birthright, however, she must prove herself."

A chill snaked down his spine. _Prove herself?_ Though he hadn't mentioned he hadn't seen Ava in the flesh in almost four years, he still got the occasional call. She'd become an intelligent woman, sure, but was she ready to _prove_ herself?

"How do they intend to do that?" He asked, his voice low and wary, refusing to look at Max.

Sometimes it was hard to believe that Max was Ava's mother. Gone was the girl with mortal faults and worries; beside him stood practically a Goddess, a girl who lived in another realm and dealt with matters far above anything he'd ever worried about.

"The gears are already turning. She'll succeed or she won't." Max turned to him. "Promise me you will help her."

With a deep breath and dared to meet her gaze. Her eyes full of stars was gone, replaced with two mortal eyes, full of motherly worry. In a deep breath they dissolved and she fixed her gaze to the distant horizon.

"And if she fails?"

"She dies."

With a snap of her fingers Max dissolved the vision, leaving Wally wide awake back in his house. He pushed himself out of bed, restless and edgy. Curled up in bed Artemis was fast asleep, her hair beautifully askew. Leaning down he kissed her cheek and withdrew, padding his way out into the hallway. He passed by the kid's rooms and checked each of them, found his youngest daughter curled up with her enormous pink teddy; and his teenage son fast asleep, his face in a book. Smiling, he went inn to the kitchen and poured a glass of whiskey. In the dark, with only the thin sliver of moonlight spilling in through the window above the sink, he was alone with his thoughts.

He took a deep sip and sighed. Tomorrow he'd have to set about trying to find Ava and _pray_ she'd listen to him. After their last face to face conversation he wasn't sure. He'd been so sure he was doing right by her, that he'd given her every opportunity. In the end, Ava had cut off communication, citing vague reasons and only answering infrequent calls.

"Wally?" Artemis's voice crackled across the living room, thick with sleep.

Looking up, he smiled as his wife shuffled in, wearing a baggy shirt but looking as beautiful as the day he met her. "Sorry I woke you."

She blinked and frowned. "Bad dream?"

"Do you remember what I told you when I brought Ava home?" Wally said quietly, taking another sip.

Wariness flashed in her eyes. "Max contacted you."

He held up the glass and nodded. "It seems Ava is about to be called home."

"But do they know she's…?"

"No. I didn't mention that. To be honest, I have no idea where she is, what she's doing – I think I should make a few calls, try and track her down," he murmured.

She moved beside him and took the glass from him, finishing it off. Then she took his hand and kissed it, the moonlight catching the faint couple lines that etched her face. She hated them but he loved them, loved every inch of her. Squeezing her hand he tried to take some of her strength, to push away the unease that knotted in his chest. For twenty years he had carefully kept the truth of Ava's heritage, as per Max's strict instructions and despite his desire to tell Dick the truth. Now, if he spoke to too many people, to the _wrong_ person and that truth spilled out…Well, Max had her reasons why she wanted to keep Ava's bloodline a secret, and they were good reasons.

"Twenty years. It's been _twenty_ years – why _now?"_ He asked aloud, staring out the window to the stars beyond.

Beside him Artemis rested her head on his shoulder. "Whatever happens next, I'm with you."

* * *

 **There** was the tearing sound of metal, of thunderous crashes and an explosive _bang,_ as the van, half shredded, flipped. Something sharp slashed her cheek, warm blood spraying. Pain lanced through her as the van flipped again and finally rolled to a stop on its side. Gritting my teeth I dragged myself out of the last straps and dropped down. Pain spiked up my legs. I spat out a string of curses as I dragged myself out of the back of the van, tumbling out onto the soft earth. With a deep breath I rolled onto my back, chest heaving, sweat dripping from my brow.

I drew on the remaining pool of energy and siphoned it into my limbs. Immediately the warm glow filled me and the pain dissolved in the next breath. The wounds were still there but they'd heal soon enough – slowly but surely. For now, the pain was gone and any internal bleeding would be over. I slowly but gingerly got to my feet, eyeing the mangled wreck with amusement.

The warbled groan of the driver cut the air, disturbing my thoughts. I made my way around to the front and saw the driver sprawled out on the ground, his leg broken in several places and a dark patch of blood stained his shirt. He was dribbling blood, which he coughed fearfully as he saw me approach.

"Please, please don't hurt me!"

I stood over him, staring down with a cool expression. "Where were you taking me?"

"I-I can't say."

I arched a brow. "Going by that wound you'll be dead shortly. Why not help a girl out?"

He seemed torn and weak from the loss of blood. Wincing, he touched his chest and saw the blood. It was then he realised he really was dying and he looked afraid. A good person might've comforted him, tried to call for help but neither of us had a phone. Looking around it was clear to see we were a good while away from anywhere and the road was dead silent, shrouded in darkness. No rescue was going to come. Well, for him, anyway. I'd slip out before anyone came and be fine.

"To the docks at Gotham. There was a ship, the _Carpathia,_ you were to be loaded onto," he wheezed out.

I put a foot on his leg, causing him to howl in agony. "I was transported alone – _why?"_

"I-I-I don't know."

Shaking my head I sighed. "Not good _enough_."

He howled, begging and sobbing. "I don't know!"

"You're going to die and I don't have _time_ for this. My people are _good_ people. They don't deserve whatever is going to happen to them," I said, trying to sound a little more human. It was a lie. My people had broken every law under the sun, some had done things that made normal people crack, and to be honest, they probably deserved 'justice' dealt to them. But they were my family. The ones I trusted and laughed with, the ones I was happy to have at my back, and fought for. When missions got tough or we had our backs against the walls I knew that together we'd get out, and that we'd survive. That's what we all were. _Survivors._

He choked on another splutter of blood, writhing in agony. With a deep breath I knelt by his side and set my hand over his mouth. I closed my eyes and summoned a jolt of energy – sending it shooting into his skull. He went limp beneath me. I pulled my hand back and stood, turning to the road.

It would be a long walk. I turned my gaze to the distant horizon and steeled my spine. _I'm coming guys. I'll find you and I'll make whoever did this pay. I'll make them wish they were dead._


	3. Chapter 3

" _He's so handsome," drawled Carrie Mawley, the closest thing Ava had to a friend. "And so mature. You know him, don't you?"_

 _Ava looked across the backyard, full of family members and friends enjoying a lunch, and saw Bart Allen. He was so mature. Much older. Too old for her, naturally but that didn't stop her from dreaming. She nodded with a dreamy smile._

 _The young girl in her had already fallen in love. "Yeah, I do."_

 **Chapter 3 Underbelly**

It didn't take long to hail a lift. A truck driver had stopped over, seeing me clothes and seemed worried for me. He said he'd call an ambulance and then kept asking what happened. When I summoned a bolt of energy and exploded a nearby rock, then held the same hand up, pointing at him, he shut up. My fingers still crackled with energy. After that, he was obedient. He even offered some clothes. I took his shirt, which hung like a long dress, and with a belt I modified, I cinched my waist. There wasn't anything I could do for shoes, so I remained barefoot. I then grabbed a bottle of water from behind his seat and washed my face and hands, removing any trace of blood. I wet my hair, then dragged my fingers through it and tied it back with a strip of cloth I found amongst his stuff.

The drive was silent, which gave me time to think – to plan. I couldn't go to any of the safe houses or other branches. They were likely already compromised. Still, I had a few places I could go; apartments and warehouses I used on the side, not recorded on any data base. Even the name on the leases were faked, cleverly disguised under fake people and shell corporations. The owners didn't ask questions, so long as the money came, and no cops appeared.

With a place in mind I knew the next step would be gathering up my resources, hunting down people close by that owed me. I made a mental note of everything to be done, and everything required for it. Payments, items of blackmail, weapons.

When the sign of Central City came into view I told him to stop at the next truck stop. Five minutes I was climbing out. I held the door open and looked at him.

"Tell anyone about what happened and I'll steal every cent you have, including money from that offshore account you have in Manilla," I said and closed the door.

It was a wonder how much I could do when I slipped into someone's phone and into their life. When the truck rumbled away I felt at ease. There was a little virus implanted into his life now; if he even tried anything I'd know.

I went to the nearby ATM and set all the cameras on a loop, short and enough to hide me as I withdrew a small amount of funds. Then I strode into a small clothes store across the road and bought a plain pair of sneakers, a jacket and some leggings. A bit warmer I went out and hailed a taxi. With my best smile I told him where to go and sat back, breathing in the almost nauseating stench of a dozen air fresheners. By the time the taxi rolled up to the address I practically tossed the money at him and jumped out, sucking in gulps of smoggy air. The taste wasn't that much better but it was crisp and fresh, the breeze nipping at my cheeks.

Turning around I stared at the apartment complex; five years old and it still looked new, and _very_ empty. It was too expensive for most people in the area, which wasn't a bad thing. It meant few neighbours and even less questions. I strode up and buzzed myself in, then took the elevator up to the top floor, where I found the apartment. As I pushed open the door I was bowled over with a wave of stuffy, warm air. Even the six monthly cleaning hadn't done much. I made a note to fire the cleaner and hire a new one.

When the windows were finally cracked open, the balcony doors thrown wide, and the fans all set on high the air seemed to lighten. I found a 'go bag' in a hidden hole in the floor, containing paperwork, money and several phones. I used one phone to order some food to be delivered, basic groceries to get me by. Taking the rest of the stuff I went into the dining room and sprawled it across the table.

There was work to be done.

* * *

 **It** was a robbery at a local corner store. Cop stuff, really. The thing was Bart had just finished with investigating a nearby warehouse in relation to some gang crime, which contained no action. It left him restless. So when the alert had come through his comm it seemed fortuitous. Racing over, he came to a stop just outside. Angry shouts resounded from within, coupled with panicked pleas.

He blurred inside; shots rang out. Dodging them, he quickly removed the guns and moved to the door.

"Okay, come easy guys – make this easy for everyone," he said calmly, staring at the thieves – two boys who looked barely eighteen, with markings from a local gang.

The boys shared a look, clearly wondering how they'd escape. Were they on an initiation? Or a regular job? Finally, they looked at him and slowly, but warily, put their hands up. Bart smiled.

"Good choice."

Once he tied them up he called the cops and waited for them to arrive. In the meantime, he cleaned up the shop and set aside anything broken. Aside from a few broken packets of chips it was all okay. The elderly woman, the owner, was a little shaken but she seemed to relax as he spoke to her and reassured her. A few moments later the cops finally arrived and thanked him.

His comms buzzed; tapping it, a voice crackled through. "Hey, Impulse, there's a bank robbery five miles away."

"On it, Robin. You on watch, already?" Bart knew Tim had been pressuring to start taking on watches at the Watchtower, yet the League wanted him to be babysat for a little longer yet.

"Batman is here."

"Tell him I said hey."

On the other end Tim chuckled. Bart blurred off through the city, the skyscrapers a smear of colour and glass. Cars seemed frozen as he raced past, the people in midstride. He was at the bank before he knew it; in fact, he almost overshot it. Stopping abruptly by the negotiator's table, he looked at the startled man.

"How many?"

The eerily calm man stared at him. "We don't need you."

Rather than waste time Bart spun on his heel and stalked to the edge, ignoring the cops trying to get him to leave. He studied the bank, swearing he'd been inside it in person once. For the life of him though he couldn't imagine the internal layout. Which made things tricky. He was fast but if there was too many the risk of missing one, of having one caught in the crossfire and shot…

"Robin, can you bring up a list of hostages inside?"

"On it." Through the comm Bart heard the tap of keys and Tim humming softly. After a moment he grew silent. "Okay, using a thermal map I can see approximately fifteen hostages, all clustered by the centre table. There are, what I'm assuming are the attackers, five of them circled around. One seems to be pacing just shy of the door."

"Got it."

Bart sprinted into the bank; one shot was let off. He quickly cleared out the hostages from the path, delivering them one by one outside. Returning, he got the others until only the attackers remained. Or so he thought. He caught a flash of something black. Something – no, _someone_ – was hiding behind a pillar, at the rear of the bank. He dashed over and stopped. Bullets exploded in their direction in an instant. The woman, barely twenty or so, drop dead gorgeous, looked up with a striking set of sapphire blue eyes and gasped.

" _Bart?"_

Grabbing her, he ran. Right outside the bank, then on to a nearby alley, where they were alone. The second he stopped and let go she dashed over to the wall and hurled her guts up. He felt bad but wary, too. She'd seemingly recognised him and called by his first name. Yet for the life of him he didn't recognise her. She was his height and lean, all slender muscle and agile movements. Her jet black hair was pulled back into a tight pony tail, high on her head. As she finished chucking and cleaning herself she stood up, revealing a strong set of shoulders and firm arms, and turned around. Those luminous eyes latched onto him, which sent shivers through his spine. There _was_ something familiar about him.

"Impulse, what's happening?"

"The bank robbery is over. I'm busy. Impulse out." He tapped it his comm, turning it off. Looking at her, he frowned. "We're alone. Who are you?"

"Not saying I'm wrong about your name, Bart? I thought Wally taught you better – heck, I'm surprise you haven't been lectured on this by Barry yet." She cocked her head to the side, her eyes glittering with amusement.

"You seem to think you know a lot about me."

"I should, given I'm Wally's daughter."

Shock coursed through him, as new recognition lit up from within. " _Ava?"_

She grinned. "Hello Bart. Miss me?"

* * *

 **It** had been unexpected sort of day. First, the bank I was in was being robbed. Before I could get out before the others, to slip away unnoticed, _he_ rocked up. Then he'd looked at me and I'd done the stupidest thing. I'd blurted out his name, I guess partly reckoning he'd recognise me. Which proved wrong, since he didn't. Only after the alley when I said who I was did he realise. It was then further unexpected when he asked to meet for coffee later, given how we parted years ago. Maybe he didn't remember how young, _naïve_ me had blatantly hit on him, only to have him shatter any illusion he might've felt the same. Thoroughly ashamed and hurt I'd left, and a few weeks later I was back at boarding school. A year later I was in the wind and the agency had me firmly in its grasp. That had been five years ago. I wasn't a fifteen year old girl anymore, enamoured by a handsome family friend. That girl was innocent and good – well, she sort of was. She had her demons firmly locked away. I simply let them run free. It proved to be much more therapeutic than the drugs and counselling and people trying to 'get to know me', like I was some sick little thing to be saved.

Sitting at the booth I had the optimal view of the diner, and of every escape. There was a single camera in the corner of the room but a cursory examination proved that it wasn't even working, let alone plugged in properly.

When the door opened next, singing out with a jangled chime, I watched as _Bart_ walked through. Dressed in a cotton shirt and jeans, very casual. Still as dangerously handsome as he'd been five years ago. When his gaze scanned the dinner then found me they seemed to be wary, then they lit up with a smile as he approached.

"Hey."

I gestured to the seat. If I got up I wasn't sure if it was expected to hug or kiss on the cheek, or do something like that. So I remained seating, choosing the safer option.

"Good to see you."

His smile stayed. "How long have you been here?"

"Just a few days. I just arrived."

"Staying long?"

I thought how close I was to Wally and wondered if Bart expected me to mend fences, since I was in the city. "Not sure. No big plans, really. You? Living here?"

"Yeah, a house in downtown."

"Fancy. Real family home. Guess you must be settled by now?"

I swear I saw him wince. His eyes clouded. "No, single for now. You? Got a guy trapped?"

Even he winced and seemed to regret the word 'trapped'. I pushed ahead, not willing to dwell.

"No, single as well. I'm too busy for dating."

"So what _are_ you doing now? It has been five years after all…"

Five years. It really had been _five_ years. The years at the agency had flown, a blur of missions and close calls. Amongst it had been gruelling study, long hours and a life she couldn't tell. It had made the estrangement between Wally and I easier.

"I finished school and began working in clubs, travelling. Just enjoying freedom and exploring. It's been amazing, really. All the things I've seen, the people I've met," I said happily.

He smiled. "You seem happy."

Internally, I wasn't. I was angry and vengeful, ready to tear apart those who took my team, regardless of the cost on me. Whether it destroyed me or not, I didn't care. But he didn't need to know that. In his eyes I was still that girl he remembered. I wasn't her anymore. So I smiled and pretended I was, for there was no point in him knowing the truth. He was a hero, the boy from the future, the honest one. And me? I was a criminal, a thief, a killer – I'd crossed the lines he'd never dream about going near – and I didn't feel bad about it, didn't feel consumed by shame or pain.

"I am. I'm very happy."

* * *

 **Benjamin** Barvolli was the man to see, at least according to all my contacts. If my team had been transported through recently, then he likely had heard about it. One contact even said he was the person to find people, that he knew everything and could do anything. A man with power. As I slipped into the thumping crowds of the _Olympia,_ a club with a long history of hiring aliens and Meta humans, I wondered what he was _like._ And how easy it'd be to use him.

I strode past a bar, men and women sitting there, nursing drinks. With the club only starting to stir with a vivacity known for nightclubs, many seemed sombre. My gaze caught a sight I hadn't expected. A man, dressed well, that was very familiar.

 _Dick Grayson._

Why was he at the _Olympia_ , of all places? Lingering for only a moment I pushed the thought away. Whatever reason Wally's best friend billionaire had for hanging out in a known criminal club was his own business. I strode head and made a beeline for the VIP section, a cordoned off section with leather booths and mood lighting. Burly guards stood at the entrance. One stepped forward as I approached but I had eyes for Benjamin, whom stared at me with an oddly inquisitive gaze. Before I had a chance to do anything else he raised a hand.

"Let her in."

The guards stepped aside. I sat down in the booth with Benjamin and smiled.

"Mr Barvolli, a pleasure."

"Hello child, how can I assist you?"

I bristled internally at the word _child_ , stirring old memories of being coddled and told what to think, how to _feel._ Swallowing it with a steady breath I flashed him a practiced smile.

"I need a job. I'm a singer. Flexible hours and I'm not fussed how much I'm paid," I said calmly.

A waitress appeared as Benjamin Barvolli smiled. The young girl set down two drinks, one before me. I took it and had a small sip, savouring the burn of vodka and orange. She slipped away without another word, leaving me alone with Barvolli again.

"Quite the spine on you. Very well, why I should I agree?"

I held the glass just shy of my lips and smiled knowingly. "Because I can make this future partnership _very_ profitable for the both of us, Mr Barvolli, very profitable indeed."


	4. Chapter 4

_Max sat by the edge of a bubbling stream, her feet dangling into the cool water, tricking through her toes. Warm sunlight spilled over her, the day dwindling into the late afternoon. She closed her eyes and leant back, stretching out, trying to ease the stiffness knotted in her lower back. It didn't do much. After a few minutes she sat up straighter and rubbed her back._

" _You're supposed to be resting," chided Wally as he sat down beside her. "Not walking half an hour to this place."_

 _She glanced at him and smiled, not out of love but a companionship. He was her friend. "I feel drawn here. It sings to me. Well, this whole planet sings but here is sweeter." She looked down at her swollen belly and set her hand on it, feeling life stir and flutter beneath. Her_ daughter. _"Not long now."_

" _Then you have to go, don't you?"_

 _She didn't say a word. She didn't need to. They both knew the answer._

 **Chapter 4 Duplicitous**

 _ **Why**_ _did they always have to run?_ I thought as I flashed after the scientist, whom I'd cornered after receiving a tip from an old. My jumps were short and I kept myself just shy of him. If the guy wanted to run, like he actually had a _chance,_ then I was more than happy to let him. Let him tire himself out. Be like a fawn that, after being hunted so long by a mountain lion, simply stops and lies down. Of course, the difference being I didn't need to kill him to talk. No, if he was running, then he was terrified. He'd sing like a canary when I was done with him.

He dashed down a side street, dimly lit from the occasional street light and dull glow of the sporadic neon sign. Several times he shot panicked glances over his shoulder. Each time I stopped just long enough for him to see and smile deviously at him. It was cruel, this little game of mine, but it was quite a bit of fun. Much to his dismay there was no cars, no people, to one to call out to help to. He was alone and he was beginning to realise how it was going to end. Still, he ran on, far longer than I expected. Not that it mattered. I was barely cracking a sweat doing small jumps, materialising a few metres away. Each jump easy.

The street forked off up ahead. I saw him hesitate, then dart right. I chuckled and flashed after him, enjoying the rush of each jump flood through me. For him, it felt like life and death. For me, it was all just a game and one that I had already won. Poor guy. He pounded on like he had a chance, his body full of adrenalin. In pure flight mode he clung to the dim hope he'd actually escape me.

I flashed even closer, enough so I heard how hard he was breathing and to see the thin sheen of sweat that gathered on his brow. When he shot a look over his shoulder he didn't expect me so close. His foot caught a crack in the road and he tripped, staggering back over his own feet. The game was over. I drove my fist into his face. He dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Sighing, I stared down at his unconsciousness body. "Funs over." Kneeling down I set hand on his neck and the world spun away.

The world spiralled back into clarity, a bedroom sparsely furnished. I dumped the scientist on the bed and locked the door behind me. It'd take some time before he'd wake. Using the time I made a pot of tea and set it brew. As it boiled away, the faint whiff of peppermint filling the air, I made a couple small sandwiches. Likely he'd assume it's poisoned, so I made an extra for myself and resolved to eat it, though I wasn't really that hungry. And, if he proved difficult after that, I'd switch to more persuasive methods. Whatever I had to do to make him sing canary and I would. I was good at my job.

Once the tea was brewed I put it on a tray with the sandwiches, then returned the room. Part of me expected him to jump out and try an attack me. I was a little disappointed when I found him in the corner of the room, looking at me like I was the epitome of evil and death incarnate. To be honest, I only ever looked like that after a night of drinking. Otherwise, I wasn't _that_ bad.

"I brought you some food and tea. I hope you like peppermint. It's my favourite."

He glanced at the tray suspiciously. "You've poisoned it."

I set it down on the bedside table and sighed. "If I wanted you dead you'd be dead. As it is I want you to talk and be able to walk away from this. You're more useful to me that."

"You'll probably kill me the second I talk."

I tilted my head. "You're missing the point. I _want_ you to walk away from this. Honestly, I'm a lot things but not nearly as bad as you think." I frowned to myself. "Okay, scratch that, I am probably guilty of everything you're thinking about me right now." Shaking my head I looked up. "Regardless, I'm in a bit of a hurry so if you could answer my questions this will go a lot quicker. So, why don't you tell me about your time working for Vandal Savage?"

His eyes widened. "Vandal Savage? I never worked for him. Isn't he dead?"

I chuckled. "That'd be a _no,_ since he can't die. Now come on. I'd hate to use more persuausive methods."

He gulped. "More _persuasive_ methods?

I lifted one hand, my fingers crackling and lit up with writhing energy. "It's very effective, trust me but, ah, I'll be honest, it's the worst pain in the world."

I watched with satisfaction as he shifted nervously on his feet and swallowed, hard. Good. Make him sweat a little. I didn't really want to go down the other road, not if I could help it. It was so messy, not blood wise but shredding someone on the level I could. Practically tearing their cells apart slowly, so it felt like their whole body was slowly being pulled apart. It was too _easy_ for me at times.

"Fine, fine, I'll tell you what I know."

Tilting my head to the side I smiled. "Now, was that _so_ hard?"

* * *

 **It** was her again. Bart saw her from across the university's main garden, dressed in a blue shirt and jeans. Ava sat on a park bench, reading a newspaper – well, she seemed to be trying. Every so often her brow crinkled in a kind of cute way and she shifted her position. He walked over. As he neared she looked up. Surprise flashed across her face and something else – a flash – but it was going as she smiled, her eyes glowing with warmth.

"Hey – what are you doing here?"

"I work part time here in the science department. What about you? You never mentioned university," he said curiously.

She set the newspaper down beside her. "I was waiting for someone. An old friend but they're a no show."

"An old friend, eh?"

The corner of her lips twitched. "He's married to my best friend. I was hoping to talk to him about something personal. Guess he got caught up, though. Which means I should probably be on my way. Want to come for a cup of coffee or are you busy?"

"Coffee sounds wonderful. Lead the way."

She rose and grabbed her back. As they began to walk away he asked why she left the paper, didn't she want it? She merely glanced at him, one brow raised almost imperceptibly. "It was a public paper. Besides, there's no wind today."

With that said he could only follow after, thoroughly confused. Dismissing it, he fell into step beside her and they left the university grounds. From there they made their way down to the nearest main street, which was teeming with fancy restaurants and simple diners. People streamed in and out of all of them, carrying the delicious whiff of fresh pastries and newly brewed coffee. From a few came the mouth-watering aroma of a variety of dishes, which made his stomach grumble. Beside him Ava chuckled but said nothing. She simply tugged him into an industrial-looking restaurant, which seemed expensive in a new-age kind of way, until he saw the prices on the menu, then he relaxed.

Once they ordered they sat down by the back, tucked away in the corner, far away from everyone else. Ava sat with her back to the wall, a clear view of the restaurant. In anyone else it would've seemed like a defence mechanism, the kind you saw in veterans. In her, though it seemed strange, was more likely to do with a preference to talk in relative privacy. The coffee soon arrived. When the waitress walked far enough away Ava picked up her cup and took a deep sip.

"Did you know I'm adopted?"

Bart froze. "What?"

"That's why Wally and I don't speak anymore. I refuse to be like him, make it some big secret when it shouldn't be. Besides, I knew you were curious why I don't talk to him anymore and you'd be dying to ask."

He stared back, wary. "You didn't need to tell me, if you didn't want to."

Her gaze flickered to his, searching, measuring. "But I did." Her gaze softened, her dazzling blue eyes darkening a fraction. "Anyway, it doesn't change much. Wally refused to tell me their names or anything about them, said I didn't need to know when he and Artemis were the ones who raised me. I get it, I do but I don't agree with it. Combine that with all the 'therapy' they made me have as a kid…I guess there's a lot of messy history now." She blinked and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I'm blabbering."

Surprise stirred within. Then understanding. He saw it from both sides. Though he'd been a young adult he'd seen the stress Wally and Artemis had been under raising Ava. As a child she'd been wild and restless – she was complicated. On the other hand he saw Ava, saw how badly she'd wanted to be understood and for people to _get_ her. She'd starved herself, changed herself so drastically at times, just to be understood. The more she changed herself, the further she distanced herself from how she'd originally been, the sadder she seemed. Now, before him, he didn't see the sadness. There was traces of bitterness but he didn't see the troubled girl, or the tortured teen. He remembered of course when, at age fifteen, she'd said she had a crush on him, and he'd kindly reminded her he was too old. That had been their last conversation for five years. It seemed almost bizarre talking to her now, given she looked focused and sure of herself.

"No, it's fine. I could look into it, see if I could find anything," he said quietly.

Her eyes widened a fraction. "You don't have to."

This time, he smiled. "I do."

She regarded him warily but nodded, accepting.

* * *

 **It** was after midnight in Keimer Labs when Savage's prime agent, Nitri, was summoned. Accustomed to strange hours, odd missions and seemingly meaningless tasks, Nitri didn't question. She was made not to. She strode down the main lobby, having come from her room which lay in the adjacent building, and past the reception. The security guard there looked up, saw her, and quickly looked away, nervous. That wasn't unusual. Everyone was afraid of her. They all knew what she could do, if she was commanded. Beyond those commands she didn't act out, didn't see the need to. As she stepped into the elevator just beyond the reception desk she wondered why she had been summoned. It wasn't punishment. That hadn't happened in years and there had been no subtly in that. No, it was a mission. As the elevator began to slowly rise she realised it didn't matter. She would do as she was commanded and she didn't really care.

The elevator doors whirred open a moment later, revealing the spacious office of Vandal Savage. She took a second to run her hands over her uniform, just to ensure everything was in place. Satisfied, she strode forward, head held high and confident, right up to his desk. Vandal Savage stood behind his desk, staring out the enormous window to the glittering city beyond. He didn't acknowledge her presence at first but she knew he was aware of her. After a minute he turned and sat down, gesturing for her to do the same. As she did he handed her a thick manilla folder. She opened it and saw the first page was a brief bio on a young woman, though personal information seemed sparse. The picture attached was of her unconscious but was strangely grainy and out of focus, too, like the camera had shaken as it took the picture.

"Her name we don't know. All we have managed to cleave from their computers and our own information was that she was one of their top agents. Like you, she's skilled with energy and machines. When we attacked their facility all the targets were captured and photographed, then sent away for transportation to the appropriate labs. This one escaped on route. You will be tasked with finding and capturing her."

Nitri nodded. "Is the photo's poor quality the result of her power?"

"We believe so."

"Good, it will make finding her easier. How long do I have?"

Savage leaned back in his chair. "For now there is no immediate time line but within two months is preferred."

"When do I leave?"

"Now. I have a team readied. Prepare yourself and be ready within two hours."

Nitri stiffened but quickly relaxed, hiding her irritation. All her missions before had always been with the prisoners on the labs or for carefully hacking from the security of the lab. She'd been heavily restricted with her movements outside. She had hoped that she had proved herself loyal enough to be given a looser chain on a mission outside. _It would seem not,_ she thought darkly as she rose with a passive expression and departed.

She strode carefully back to her room and stepped inside. Once the door was closed she let out a howl of fury, energy exploding out, sending papers and clothes scattering. How _dare_ he? She'd been nothing but loyal and precise, never hesitating or wavering with his commands. Now, when she finally has the chance to show her worth, she has to be saddled with babysitters to make sure she didn't defect. As if she would. For all she'd done, for what she was, she knew the world wouldn't – no, _couldn't_ – accept her.

With a snarl and a curse she cleaned up her room – no use for anyone to notice her outburst – and packed her gear. With it all done she returned to the parking lot where her team waited; three soldiers in plain black gear, one girl and two guys. Nitri put her gear in the back, practically snarling at one of the guys who tried to help her, and climbed into the truck. When it was all loaded the others climbed in, the girl sitting next to her.

"Hey, I'm Agent Marlow."

Nitri shot her a scathing look. "I don't care."

* * *

 **A** knock at the apartment broke my thoughts as I sifted through a dozen emails. With a sigh I closed the laptop, realising it was one of either two things; the people who captured my team, yet that seemed unlikely or…I strode to the door and quickly tapped into a hidden camera I had above my door. Relief flooded my chest as I opened the door and welcome Tate Barnem in. As Mei's husband I had regretted not seeking him out immediately to explain what had happened; this fell away as I saw his expression and knew he'd already found out.

"When she didn't come home I suspected something had happened," he said by way of explanation.

I nodded. "We were attacked and taken prisoner."

Tate took a seat at the dining table and glanced up coolly. "Yet here you are."

There was no mistaking the accusation in his words. _Why did only you escape, huh?_ Rather than rise to anger like some kid I calmly sat down and lifted my gaze to him, undaunted by his fairly large physique and hard eyes. Whatever Mei saw in him I had no idea. With his distinctly Greek features and tanned skin he was the complete opposite of Mei, whom was more lithe and graceful outside of work.

"I was transported with no one else. As for _why,_ I don't know. I am working on my leads as we speak, which is _why_ I called you. Did Mei ever discuss with you about possible threats against the team?" I asked, wondering if he knew about Mei's affair with the Irish agent.

He shook his head. "Mei never spoke of any concerns. I only just got back from my rotational shift with the Irish branch in Belfast, so we hadn't had a chance to catch up. The dinner was meant for that."

I blanched, shock coursing through me. Mei had mentioned a husband numerous times, yet not that he was an agent. She'd also talked about a man in the Irish team. The way she'd spoken it was like the men were two different men, not one and the same. I felt a stab of anger and betrayal. Mei and I were what I considered to be friends. It had never been declared but I had believed it. Clearly, I had mistaken the label and had been duped, with Mei disclosing as much information she'd give to Shadow or the others.

Tate smiled at my shock, realising what I had believed. "You thought she was having an affair."

"She spoke of both like they were two men, not one."

He shrugged. "Marriage between agents is forbidden. Mei had originally arranged it so she was married to a civilian but having an affair with an agent. Both perfectly fine, so long as the latter isn't deemed as long term or serious. Of course, Hera eventually found out but allowed it providing we continued the ruse."

 _Yet she still didn't trust you enough,_ a dark voice sniggered at the back of my mind.

Pushing it aside I shrugged. "Nothing remains hidden from Hera forever. Now, I had asked to meet you here thinking you were just Mei's husband, _not_ an agent…"

"I can't. It's too risky," he said.

"What? Why?"

"They're targeting us, which means they likely have a list of our names and files. We'll be more easily tracked. Well, I will. I know about your gift, which hides you but if you're around me, well…"

My stomach sunk. He was right. I was a ghost, best working alone. If I was around him, if he was _found…_ No, it was easier for us to work separate and harder to be captured. A single person could blend and melt away far easier than two together…and if they knew that two of us were free…Well, it made more sense for us to work apart. Smarter.

"Very well. I suggest we work to the same goal and use some sort of system to share information. No more physical contact, not unless we have assurances that we've found where our team is. Then, and only then, do we go in together. Sound good?"

He nodded. "My suggestion though? When that time comes, we could use some more support of the powered kind."

I frowned. There wasn't anyone I could think of that would be willing to help, not with the power that would be useful for a rescue. There were obvious choices but they wouldn't help someone like us; rather, they'd be more likely to throw us in prison before they helped us or even bothered to listen. So surely he didn't mean them?

"You can't mean the League?"

To my surprise he nodded and got to his feet. "Of course they're more likely to throw us in a hole if we approach them now. So they just need to see our way, if only for a night." He glanced at me, his eyes full of questions, with lips drawn into a thin, pensive line. I saw a myriad of ideas play across his face before he exhaled deeply and spoke. "Mei always said you could get anyone to dance to your tune, manipulate anyone. Is it true?"

Nodding slowly, I got his trail of thought. "With the right motivation and pushes anyone can be manipulated. It's a matter of finding the right strings but that would take up a lot of time."

He nodded. "I know so let me work on my leads, as well as some of yours, and do what I can from my side. I'll keep you informed on the dark channels but I'll send some tester information for a week or so to see if it has been compromised. You know the drill." When I nodded he continued on. "Meanwhile you find a way to get the League's attention, make them your puppets and then get them where we need them. When we have the location we bring them there and we tell them."

"And if they try to take us? Or don't believe us?" I asked sceptically. "Because I'm all for messing with the League for a bit but what do you suggest then? I mean, I've got _my_ ideas but they're probably a tad extreme."

The corner of his lips twitched with amusement. The action made him look passably attractive, so I caught a glimpse of what Mei might've been drawn to. There was _something_ about him. Not that I'd go down that road – again. I'd danced that line before but I wasn't about to do it with a team member that I worked regularly with, that I counted on. It'd make things messy and complicated and I rather suspected that he was the honourable type. And when those types broke their honour code it was more a headache the next day, listening to them drone on about their shame before you managed a getaway.

"We'll come up with some back up plans but I suspect that they won't be keen to let hundreds be experimented on, criminal or not. After that, we'll need a big distraction, something to smuggle the teams out without the League trying to imprison us all afterwards."

I smiled wickedly. "You leave the chaos to me. That's _my_ specialty."

Following Tate to the door he chuckled; a deep, resonating sound from his chest, which made me laugh a little more. "So Mei has told me many times. You're the dangerous one."

I held the door open as he walked out, smiling. "That I am."


	5. Chapter 5

" _Here's your healthy baby girl," Wally said as he knelt down beside Max, holding out a tiny baby, wrapped in a blanket._

 _Max weakly sat up, her body still shaking and aching, and gingerly took her baby into her arms. Though she was grateful for Wally, happy she didn't have to do it all alone, she wished more than anything that Dick was there. She kissed her baby's tiny head and sighed, content._

" _My little Ava."_

" _It's a beautiful name," murmured Wally._

 _Max glanced up at him, eyes soft. "You've had practise in this, haven't you?"_

" _I've helped a couple times before here with the villagers. Anyway, what happens next?"_

" _You take care of Ava. Make sure no one knows of her father; if anyone finds out they'll know her heritage. For her safety no one can ever know what she is. In time,_ she'll _come for Ava. That I can't stop," said Max quietly._

 _Confusion flashed on his face. "Who would find out? We-"_

" _You're going home, Wally."_

 **Chapter 5 Fortuitous**

" **This** is _your_ stress reliever?" Bart asked sceptically as I emptied another clip of bullets into the paper target, purposefully being a tad slack for the aim.

I set the pistol down. "Growing up I tried a lot of things to relax. Drugs, alcohol, fast cars, sex – pretty much anything dangerous and addictive I did it. It made me feel…I guess it helped with everything. Of course, it wasn't healthy but here I can shoot and relax. People have massages or long walks…I have this and it helps."

He nodded. I think he was trying to understand, to get me. It was cute. Since my talk with Tate I realised I already had a way into the League. It just had to be done perfectly, not slip ups, no personal attachments. Looking at Bart I realised it'd be too easy. I almost felt bad. Almost. Bart was just collateral damage in the greater plan. A necessary pawn. With the League in my hands I had a greater chance of getting my team out, of saving them. Though I said I'd leave Tate to his investigation I couldn't completely trust he wouldn't screw up, that he'd do fine if I just let him handle the search, I couldn't just leave him to it. If I find out my team had died, or that any of them had died, because I'd willingly just let another person take over, that I'd put up no fight or not even tried to find them personally, I'd never forgive myself. And I didn't plan on becoming a guilt-ridden useless agent yet.

"No judgement. I run – probably just as healthy. Normal people go for a run around the block whereas I go for a run to Spain or Antarctica," he said casually.

I peered at him, one brow raised faintly. "Spain? Antarctica?"

"Churros and snow."

Shrugging, I filed it away. Tiny things like that would be helpful in the future, providing I played it carefully. Quickly but carefully. No unnecessary slip ups. If I was to save my team I had to do it right and to not lose my cool just because Bart had a pretty face. I'd been suckered and shredded by that face before. Not again.

"Plans for today?" He asked as we walked out of the shooting range and onto the main street.

"Practises from three for work tonight but I'd be careful if I was you. You wouldn't want to give the wrong impression," I said, walking just a fraction ahead of him.

As expected I heard his breath shift. "The wrong impression?"

"A guy really only asks questions like that when he's trying to get to know a girl more, to _date_ her," I said and turned around. "And I wouldn't want you to think the wrong thing about me. I don't date. I don't do serious. I won't be pinned down by anything – or anyone."

Not for the first time I left him speechless.

After the range we went down to the park where a local market was underway, sprawled out across the grass. Flocks of people descended on the white stalls, dressed warmly for the icy breeze that swept through. Though I wore jeans and a shirt I quickly wished for a jacket. I walked slightly ahead of Bart, determined not to look cold, to give him _any_ reason to be that damn gentleman I remembered. If I was being honest with myself the whole meeting with him, the walks and chats, were apart of a long plan. Yet I had to remind myself to keep everything detached. Slips led to mistakes and so much was at risk.

I glanced at my watch. Six hours until I made contact with Tate. Would he have anything? What if he had a location? I hadn't made enough leeway with Bart to commence the next phase.

"Got a meeting?" Bart asked, striding up beside me effortlessly.

Shaking my head I slapped on a practised smile. "Nothing major. Just seeing an old friend."

"The same one from the university?"

The corner of my lips tugged. _Jealousy, good._ "Yeah. Oh, I got a job."

"Where?"

"The Olympia. Good pay, decent hours. I reckon I'll-"

"Quit."

I stopped suddenly and arched a brow. "Um, why?"

Bart stared at him. I saw a myriad of emotions play out in his eyes. Five years ago those eyes had been closed off, a kind of secret wonder and puzzle to me I'd been unable to solve. Staring at him now was like staring at open book, the words clear before me. It was bizarre and something I would've thought about more were it not for the next words that came out of his mouth.

"You do know who owns that club, right?" Anger laced his words, stirring my own fury – I quickly reigned it in and reminded myself this was good.

"No, I don't because I didn't have a long winded job interview with him and chat out my terms," I said, deadpan.

Surprise flashed in those brilliant eyes of his, clearly not expecting me to admit to the truth. To _know_ the truth. How ditzy had I seemed as a kid for him to think I was like that now? Despite all I'd said and shown how I carried myself? I was a far cry from the desperate and confused kid who cried because no one _understood_ her.

"You're willing to work with a criminal," he stated. "You're okay with it?"

I strode off to a nearby store and ordered a hot coffee. As I waited I didn't answer him. When the coffee was finally handed over I turned to Bart, to that expectant look in his eyes.

"Not all of us have the luxury of being picky. I applied for a bunch of clubs but he was the only one to say yes. Now, some of us don't have a glitzy education-"

"That was-"

" _My_ choice and I don't regret it. The best decision I'd made. My point is I need the work and it's not for long. Besides, it's not as if I'm some sordid criminal working with gangs so you can wipe that look off your face," I said, taking a deep sip.

He blinked. "What look?"

Seeing we were drawing a few curious looks I stalked off to a small clearing away from the stalls. The eyes followed us, lingering but soon other things drew their attention. We were forgotten. I cast Bart a dry look, trying to edge it with a flicker of fury.

"Like I'm one of _them_ ," I said with a drawl. "You're judging me like I'm some gang member when all I did was get a job."

"I wasn't judging-"

"Yes, you were. Bart, not all of us have _talents_ where we can save the world or perfect lives. I've made a life for myself. I'm sorry you can't approve of it. That it's not your idea of what I should be but I gave up trying to be that person. You know why? You want to know why I stopped trying to be that person that Wally wanted? Because it made me feel crazy, like I was a stranger and everything was wrong with me. I hated it. I hated _me._ Do you know what it's like to live with that feeling? With that loathing?" I let out a jagged breath. Somehow the game had become real and truths began to spill out. "I made a choice long ago to stop living a lie, to be _who_ I was. I want to say I'm sorry again but I can't. I'm not saying sorry anymore. It's your problem now you can't deal with who I am."

I poured the coffee out. The hot liquid steaming briefly on the icy grass as I spun on my heel and strode off.

"You think my life is perfect?" He asked, his voice so soft I almost missed it – missed the bittersweet tone that saturated his words.

I turned around. "It's a hell of a lot rosier than mine. In your mind anyway."

"I'm not going to say I had it as bad as you but that doesn't mean my life isn't in pieces right now. I was dating a girl for five years. I met her just after you vanished. I _loved_ her. She was my best friend, my rock, my _life._ With her I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. So I did the natural thing and asked her to marry me. Only, she said no and left without any decent explanation. I haven't seen her since. Now I'm stuck with a ring I can't figure out why I'm keeping and everyone I know is walking on egg shells around me. I thought I had everything figured out but now I don't know."

For the first time since meeting him again I was actually stunned silent.

* * *

 **Ellia** stared at her bedroom wall, at each wall really, and frowned at the symbols covering it. She'd started drawing them a week ago. It was all gibberish, really. It was ancient Kaleran, the old written tongue they'd used briefly whilst she was growing up. That had been years ago. Decades. Staring at it now was like staring at a dictionary in another language, no translation. Just a bunch of meaningless symbols.

Turning away she strode into the kitchen – and almost screamed as Batman emerged from the shadows of her balcony. She stepped back, scowling with fury, annoyed because she had stated explicitely to the League she was to be left alone outside work. That meant _no_ unscheduled visits, no invasions of her privacy. She considered shutting her bedroom door but there was no way he would be able to see it from where he stood. Folding her arms, she drummed her fingers against her bicep. "You have ten seconds to explain before I blast you out."

"That wouldn't be wise," he advised calmly.

Ellia's skin crackled with energy, bursts of light scattering across her skin. Her own eyes glowed intensely, flickering with barely contained power. He couldn't have caught her at a more dangerous time, when she barely had a leash on her own power. "I don't care. What the hell do you want?"

"I have a question. Just one."

"Fine," gritted out Ellia.

He retrieved a thumb drive from his belt and set it on the coffee table. "Can you have a look at this?"

Her gaze narrowed icily. "You couldn't leave this until I was back at the Tower?"

"No."

The ice in her veins melted as curiosity flickered, drawing out that old side of her she'd taken care to keep buried. Cocking her head to the side she eyed the drive for a moment, then cast Batman a questioning look, wondering what game he was playing. Clearly something he _didn't_ want the League to know about.

"Fine. I'll look at it. Now can you go? And try not to break a hip on your way out. You're not as spry as you used to be, despite what you may think," she added with a cool voice.

Batman spun on his heel and vanished out of her apartment. She strode across and locked all the balcony doors, the front door and she grabbed the drive. For a moment she eyed it curiously. What was on the drive that would make Batman go to her, _not_ the League, and go behind his team mates? She ought to feel insulted in some capacity but she really couldn't care like that, not when she was wondering about what game she'd been drawn into. Was it about the team of spies Batman had been following? If so, why? They weren't world conquering criminals. Sure, they robbed and broke every law they could but they weren't like Brainiac or Savage or any other nutcase. They were a force in the world. Simply there. They didn't answer to anyone. They were ghosts.

She went into her bedroom and plugged the drive into her computer. Immediately she felt the call of the system and she slipped into it as easily she did a shower, the energy washing over her.

The files sprung up before, like holograms, and stretched out with a myriad of pictures. Each one contained a girl, her whole form out of focus, like she ran at a different frequency to the rest of the world. Ellia reached out and touched the closest file. A bolt of energy zapped through her, sending her staggering back. She reeled for a moment, stunned; then, with a renewed focus, strode back and surged her own energy at the picture, forcing it to clear. It fought her, lashing out with stinging bolts, before it yielded. The photo cleared.

In the closest picture the girl's face stared back at her, hard and defiant. Ellia's face drained of blood. She _knew_ that face.

* * *

 **The** steady hammering against the front door dragged me from bed, cursing and snarling, crackling with energy. Through the gloomy shadows I strode to the front door, ignoring the switches, ready to shred whoever the hell woke me up. I yanked the door open, one hand poised to hurl energy when I saw who it was – and the blood staining their shirt. He staggered past me, leaving me stunned for a moment. I quickly shut the door and wiped all the footage of the building, then sent a message to one of my cleaners. By morning any blood he left getting to me would be gone.

"What the hell happened, Tate?" I asked, trailing after him.

He slumped onto one of the chairs by the dining table with a curse. "I was shot, obviously."

"Oh, _really?_ I hadn't noticed the fact that you're bleeding all over my floor. You're paying for the cleaners, I hope you know," I said coolly.

Tate's eyes flashed to me. "I was followed. Someone grabbed me but I got free. Got shot leaving. Had a friend teleport me here. You kn0w-"

"I don't but I don't want to know," I said and knelt before him, lifting his shirt, ignoring his protests. "It looks clean through but I'll call my guy, get you patched up. Then we're having a lovely chat about etiquette when it comes to visiting friends."

His brows lifted. "We're friends?"

"Don't get gushy on me, Tate. I don't like you," I said, dismissively. "Now, give me a moment."

I slipped into my bedroom and made a quick call. When I returned Tate had removed his shirt completely and had a handtowel pressed against his wound, trying to staunch the slow flow of blood. A scold burned my lips at how he was using one of my good handtowels. Pushing the thought aside I took the seat near him and stared at him.

"Care to explain how you knew where I lived?"

"I didn't. I have my talents, you have yours."

I didn't press it. Tomorrow I'd arrange for a new apartment, then I'd look into his gift later. See if I could use it. The immediate problem, however, was ensuring that Tate didn't bleed out on my floor before he had a chance to talk properly. The smart bastard was being purposefully vague until he was not standing on death's door, blackmailing me into saving him. Were it not for the unique set of circumstances I probably would've just let him bleed out.

"Mei's going to kick my ass," he chuckled.

Blinking, confused, I frowned. "What?"

With a small dry smile he gestured to his wound, to the blood seeping through his other hand. "I promised not to get shot again."

"She specifically told you not to get shot? What, is being stabbed okay?" I replied archly.

"I got shot eight years ago and almost died on the kitchen floor. She saved my life. That was how we met, you see. Told me I could marry her if I promised to never get shot again," he explained quietly.

"I'll never understand that. It seems like a stupid thing to promise," I said simply.

Tate glanced up, his gaze measuring. For the first time since we had met face to face he seemed to look at me differently. Like some prearranged idea of me had been broken down. There was a light to his eyes, illuminating a new side to him – the human side. This was a surprise. He was the first agent I'd seen show it; the rest didn't have it or, if they did, they kept it so deeply buried it was never seen. Before that look he was an agent to me; now, I glimpsed the husband and lover that was there, the human. It was unnerving.

"I love my wife and for her, I went to the greatest lengths to keep that promise. What about you? Surely you have at least loved someone?"

I thought about all the people I'd been infatuated with as a teen, in those gloriously messy years of violent outburst and wild power. There had been people I'd drawn to; destructive souls, the closest thing I had something familiar. Bart's face lit up, brief and brilliant, but that was a child's love; feint, smothered by reality. Aside from that there had been no attachments, no one to warrant interest or to risk anything for. No one to die for.

"No. I don't get attached," I said simply, just as a resounding knock came from the front door. I flashed to the front door and opened it, admitting a tiny older woman wearing speckled blue glasses and a business suit. "Mrs Jane."

Mrs Jane glanced up with her sharp, intelligent dark eyes, measuring me for a moment – likely beginning an assessment of my health. She pressed her thin lips into a sour line, irritation stirring in those eyes of hers, an accusation on her lips. Tate's haggard cough broke her focus. She blinked several times and sighed; with a brief, waspish look, she strode past me, travel bag in hand, and set it on the dining table. I lingered by the hallway, watching as she forced open her bag and began rooting around for items. Tate glanced at me, then at her, flashing a warm smile. She ignored him completely.

I withdrew into my bedroom, shedding my clothes and slipping into the shower. By the time I finally emerged out of the bathroom and changed into a fresh pair of clothes there was a knock at my bedroom door. I quickly wrapped up my hair in a towel and opened the door. Mrs Jane stood there.

"Your friend is resting in the spare room. By tomorrow he'll be fine," she stated calmly, watching me with hawk-like eyes. "Sit on the bed, Ava."

"Why?" I asked warily.

"Sit, Ava," she commanded again and pushed me to the bed, shutting the door behind her.

Amused, I sat down and watched as she sat down beside me. She took my hand and watched me, as if waiting for some sort of reaction. For an almost uncomfortable amount of time she simply stared at me. What she was waiting for me I had no idea. Only that I didn't seem to be responding the way she wanted, since her brow furrowed deeply, deepening the crow's feet that had knitted more furiously in the past few years. She withdrew her hand.

"You didn't feel anything?" She asked quietly.

My blood cooled. "You tried to _shock_ me?" After a pause, I flexed my hands and set them by my side. "How much?"

"A lightning bolts worth. It should've killed you or you should've felt it," she replied grimly. "You just absorbed it." Her eyes flickered to mine. "Have you been feeling any different? Any noticeable changes?"

"No but I haven't exactly been pushing it on the energy front. There hasn't been a need," I said. "This isn't a problem. I mean, more power isn't exactly bad. Right now it's just what I need."

But the look on her face told a different story.


	6. Chapter 6

_Ava stood over the injured man, her hand tightening around the grip of the gun. There was no warmth, no humanity, in her eyes, only a cold, dead look of someone who had cut that part away. The man before her looked up, smug, his own lips – bruised and bloodied – were twisted into a smirk._

" _I know who your family is. You won't kill me. You're a hero," he said._

 _A faint flicker of emotion stirred in her eyes. Curiosity. She cocked her head to the side. "Oh? I thought I was perfectly clear that I'm not a hero?"_

 _With a sigh, she squeezed the trigger._

 **Chapter 6 Plans**

 **Ellia** was the first to arrive. The first League meeting in the fifteen or so years since she'd been working with them, helping train and learn. There had been a few offers before, mostly as an attempt for her to take the oath to join, to really become one of them. By doing that however meant surrendering that otherness she'd clung to in the wake of Max's death. Yet this meeting wasn't a request out of pity. It was an order, blanketed thinly with the vague threat of removal. Warily, Ellia accepted and ensured she was the first to arrive. Whatever Batman had planned for the meeting she was determined to as be ready for it.

As one by one the members trickled in she realised how few of the original members were left; really just Batman, Wonder Woman and Superman. The latter had only aged fractionally and Wonder Woman still seemed the same. Batman moved beside her and Ellia noted the increased aids in his suit. To the untrained eye he still moved with the natural youth he started with. To her, she saw an old man pushing his retirement. As a hero, anyway. Amongst them, as well as the new faces – many old sidekicks that had come to replace their masters – Ellia felt that stirring of otherness. She had barely aged herself. No wrinkles to show, nor slowed reflexes to indicate she was forty. Not that that age was considered _old_ by human standards but there was a marked difference, especially when she still resembled those who had barely turned twenty five.

Once the last member took their seat Batman rose and set a disc on the table. Immediately a hologram sprung up, a video recording of a masked and blurred figure. Why someone needed to distort their already hidden face Ellia didn't know. Curious, though, she remained quiet.

"Yesterday the League was sent this anonymous video. Prior to this I had been investigating an international spy group with connections to many of the League's greatest enemies, past and present. This was the response to the investigation."

Ellia didn't miss the careful omission of _his_ investigation. She felt a chill snake down her spine. Did he mean to draw her name into it? Granted she'd followed up on a few leads and contacted some old allies she'd scarcely expected to be lumped in with Batman. Given his attitude towards her.

He waved his hand over the disc. A hologram sprung up, a masked face, seeming to quiver. Like it was glitching. Ellia turned her True Sight on it and saw it wasn't a fault. The video had been designed to do that. There was also a pale pulse, oddly familiar to her but too weak to study further. She blinked, normal vision settling, and the video crackled once more.

"Hello Justice League," began the voice, digitally distorted. "For some months you have been seeking us. You have our attention. Congratulations. Now, we're going to play a game. The rules are simple. We'll send you clues and you just have to solve them. There will be a time limit of course. Where is the fun if there wasn't? Failure or refusal is not advised. We'll be in touch."

Ellia's blood had turned to ice. She glanced at Batman, whom she found watching her, _studying_ her _reaction._ The video had been shown to inform the League but also to gauge her reaction. To see if she was somehow involved.

"This is _real?"_ Ellia said. "They actually contacted you?"

"I presume they're usually more likely to ignore attention on them?" Batman replied calmly.

She snorted. "They're very _selective_ about who they work for or communicate with. Max and I tried to get their help years ago but they refused. When we pushed they blew up a bus we were meant to be on, killing half a dozen people. We took the warning."

"So they're not adverse to killing?" Superman broke in, troubled.

"No. They're not the best in the world for no reason. What I find weird is that they've contacted you and issued a challenge, a _game._ It's so unlike them," she murmured, glancing back at the disc. _Why had they contacted the League? To what end?_ "They're methodical and practical. From what I know is they only kill with reason." She held up a hand as a couple members went to break in. "I don't _agree_ but they don't kill for fun. Unless it serves a purpose they won't even hurt someone. Unfortunately, if they see that the death will have purpose, they won't blink. The bus being a prime example."

Across the room wary glances were exchanged. Ellia still didn't think they really grasped how _dangerous_ this group was. In the months that Max and Ellia had spent trying to contact them, at trying to procure their services, it had been a struggle and ended in six people dead. If the League called this group's bluff or failed? How many people would die? She eyed each of them, wondering if they believed the threat for what it was, and how very real the threat of failure was. At how many lives were at stake.

Superman stood from his seat, clearing his throat. "I suggest we stand by and see what this challenge is like. For now, we don't risk upsetting them. We can't give them a reason to hurt people. From there we'll look at our options. See if he can covertly uncover who they really are."

From her seat Ellia snorted, loudly. Gazes snapped to her, critical. She met their gazes, undaunted. She'd be damned if she let anyone make her feel small. Turning her gaze back to Superman, her chin slightly lifted, she rose to her feet and set her closed hands against the table.

"Don't underestimate these people. This isn't a game," she said firmly and strode from the room.

* * *

" **You** have a visitor, Ava," said Jedd, a performer at the _Olympia,_ his head poked through the doorway.

I glanced back at him in the mirror. "Name?"

"Bart Allen."

The makeup brush in my hand stilled against my cheek. I set it down, slowly and nodded back to Jedd, who waited for my reply. To my surprise, my heart gave a tiny jolt, then stilled into its familiar calmness.

"Send him in."

With a nod Jedd slipped out, closing the door. I rose out of my chair and slipped out of my robe, then grabbed my dress from the rack. It was easy to slip into it. I was zipping it up when there was a knock at the door, followed by it cracking open. Bart saw me – saw the half-dressed state I was in and froze. I pinned him with a hard look in the mirror.

"In or out?"

He stuttered for a moment then stepped inside and shut the door. "In."

"Why you're there reckon you could zip me up?" I asked.

For a moment he stared at me, then nodded and stepped behind me. I felt his warmth brush over my skin, sending chills scattering across my skin, snaking down my spine. I repressed a shiver, just barely, as his fingers touched the zipper. A part of his hand brushed the bare skin of my back. It was hard to ignore the scorching heat of his touch but I pushed it down, hard. There was no good in becoming emotionally attached. At reacting. At _feeling._ Slowly, he pulled the zip up. I didn't miss how his hand lingered for a second before he stepped away and cleared his throat.

"All done."

I ran a hand down over my dress and smiled. "Perfect." With a deep breath I turned to him. "I have to admit I didn't expect you to visit." _After our last chat went so swimmingly._

He tensed a fraction. So the wound _was_ still there after all. "It's alright." It _wasn't,_ I sensed. "I guess it's hard to reconcile the two versions of you I know; the girl and the…the woman in front of me. They're completely different people and I guess-"

"It's hard accepting that an old friend has become an insanely beautiful criminal singer?" I offered with a wink.

With that he softened. "You're not a criminal."

"Well, _no,_ " I lied. "I mean, I'm not like the ones you deal with. Can't say I'm entirely innocent of being bad occasionally."

With each word the air seemed to grow hotter, full of double meanings and promise. Poor Bart didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to handle me. Good, I wanted him off balance. I leant back against my table, stretching out a fraction.

"I just wanted to apologise. I've been an ass. Part of me has been treating you like the girl I used to know but you're different. Not bad different. I guess-"

"Dinner."

He blinked. "What?"

"I finish eleven. There's a wicked diner nearby, does twenty four hour food and amazing fries. Buy me some and we're good," I said, turning back to my dresser.

There was still a few strands of hair to pin away. Once I was finished I turned back to Bart, who regarded me with a strange expression. One I couldn't read. I studied him for a second, then breezed past, not willing to dwell on it too long. Thoughts like that were dangerous.

"I have to go on but wait for me, won't you?"

* * *

 _ **Wait** for me, won't you? _ The words reverberated in Bart's head as he took a seat by the bar with a clear view of the stage. Of the club, too but that was old training and instinct kicking in. He tipped his head back and swallowed the burning alcohol, hoping it would dull that fire in him. That it would clear his head. It didn't help. The image of Ava half reclined on that table like some dangerous creature was enough to make him have cold showers for a week. He still remembered the feeling of her, how warm and how _amazing_ she'd smelt. The feel of her skin beneath his fingers, how she'd faintly curled on his touch.

He ordered another drink.

As he waited in the corner of his gaze he caught sight of a familiar face sitting two seats over. He moved over and the familiar figure turned to him.

"Bart?"

"Hey Dick. What are you doing here?"

Richard Grayson, once an active hero, now a reclusive investigator, gave him a queer look. "I've been coming here for years."

Beyond that, it seemed there would be no explanation offered. Bart's drink arrived. He held it but didn't move to drink it. The surprise of seeing his old ally made the night even more unusual. He went to speak when he heard the music begin, an ethereal voice glide across the room. Instinctively, he turned in his seat and froze. There, on the stage, bathed in the pale silver light of the stage, was Ava. Her long black hair was braided and curled around her simply made up face.

He'd never seen a more beautiful sight.

"Wow."

"So that's Benny's new singer?" Dick asked conversationally.

Bart couldn't look back at him. "Yeah. Ava."

He didn't say her last name, figuring that Ava had gone through extensive pains to cut that part of her life away. What good would it do to tell Dick that Wally's daughter was backpacking across the world, singing and doing whatever she wanted?

"She looks like…" Dick's voice trailed off, half drowned out by the music. "Never mind. It's impossible."

Ava belted out another song. When she was finished the club erupted into applause, the sound deafening. It seemed that Ava had awed and stunned the crowd. She beamed back, her face lit by both the lights and a profound joy within. It was though a sun blazed within her. Then she looked at him, as if instinctually knowing exactly where he was in the crowd, and the smile took on another gleam. A private one, reserved just for him.

Suddenly, her eyes snapped to a spot behind him and the smile fell from her face. That's when gunfire erupted within the club.


	7. Chapter 7

_As Ava bled out on the forest floor, her mouth full of blood and dirt, she stared up at the stars. They glittered above her, clear and bright, and she swore they called out to her. She barked with laughter, blood spluttering onto her chest, when something stirred within her. A response to the stars themselves, something deep within calling back. Panic burst through her._

" _You're not having me just yet," she whispered fiercely and slammed her eyes shut, the world bursting to light around her. "I'm not your slave – not now, not ever!"_

 **Chapter 7 Symbiosis**

There was a gleam in Ava's eyes. A dangerous kind of gleam, like she had a plan. Bart leant closer, though paused before he spoke as an armed man passed by their group. Once gone, he cleared his throat softly. Ava glanced at him, her eyes void of the gleam, replaced with an unguarded concern – like he was the one afraid, and she was concerned for him. Was this the expression he gave people he saved?

"You okay?"

"Are _you?"_ He asked, reaching for her hand but withdrew when he realised what he was doing. Ava was a friend, an old _family_ friend, not the kind to get involved with. "I'm used to this."

A faint smile touched her lips. "This isn't my first rodeo. I'm fine but these people aren't. I'm not used to being in this position."

"What position?"

She fell silent as someone passed close, lingering. It wasn't the time to talk. Subtly, she leaned forward, her eyes seeming to examine something carefully before she sighed and glanced at him, the man having passed onto another group.

"These guys are idiots to have attacked this place," she whispered.

"Shut up," hissed a young girl next to her.

Ava shot her a frosty look. "Say anything and you won't be walking out of here."

The look in her eyes was enough to silence the girl, enough to leave a quivering look in her eye. Even Bart felt a jolt of wariness in the tone she used. There wasn't any bluff, no pretence behind it. Only brutal honesty. He imagined, if she felt required, she would break something on that girl to make a point. There seemed to be that dark streak in Ava. He tried to tell himself that it hadn't been in the young Ava he'd known. Unfortunately that was a lie. Even as a young girl there had been something different about Ava, a kind of inhumanness about her. A strangeness that wouldn't be defined, that wouldn't be controlled or dictated. She was a hurricane, the fury of the most destructive storms. Unstoppable. Unbound. Wild.

Yet in the next breath her eyes reclaimed that blank calmness. She turned to him. "There has to be a reason why they took this place."

"A statement," finished Bart grimly – there were easier ways to extort money. No, this hostage situation was a statement to someone. That never meant anything good for the hostages.

Ava nodded in agreement, her lips a thin line, saying nothing. She shifted on her haunches, then set down, stretching out her legs. Suddenly, she winced as she rolled her shoulder. Bart watched as she dug her knuckles into the crook of her shoulder, massaging it. She closed her eyes and groaned in relief and pain. As her gaze fluttered open she caught his stare and smiled, a kind of secret and conspiratorial smile. Like she saw something in his stare and liked it.

"An old injury," she explained. "I haven't done much massaging on it lately so it's a bit sore."

He was about to ask when a guy strode over. "Keep it down!"

Ava glanced up, eyes cold and unafraid. She met his gaze, stared him down with a steely gaze. It was unsettling. Even the man had to spit a curse and stalk off, clearly ruffled by her gaze. What was about it that looked so dangerous? At first sight Ava was striking yes but hardly intimidating. A second glance revealed an iron and intelligent gaze, a body firm and muscled, the faint whisper of well-healed wounds. Ghost-like scars. In an instant a forbidden image of Ava's body, scarred and naked, rose before him. He quickly blinked and forced it away, trying to think of safer things.

She scanned the room again, lingering on a man at the far edge of the room. He stood slightly off the main group, his face hidden by a simple half-face black mask, and had two pistols holstered at his hip. It was the way the man looked at the room that struck Bart. Like he wasn't really interested in the hostages or the club. It was like…

"He's waiting for something," murmured Ava, voicing Bart's own thoughts. "I wonder who."

"Barvolli?"

Ava shook her head. "Benny won't show. He doesn't roll like that."

"Familiar with him?"

She glanced at him, measuring. "Rumours and a few meetings with him. I do technically work for him after all."

There was a teasing lilt to her voice. She knew his dislike of Barvolli and was happy to toy with him about it. The gleam in her eyes, a glittering Cheshire smile, sent a sharp jolt through him. Realising he'd leaned in a fraction he pulled back and focused on the men, on finding a way out. He sought Dick across the crowd but the retired hero was examining the room, looking for exits, devising a plan. It was a pain he was so far away but there was no way to get closer, not without arousing suspicion. He _could_ run over but it'd draw too much attention, even if he did it in a blink of an eye. There was too many eyes, too many chances to notice the fact he was sitting far across the room. And if Dick _was_ planning something it was best if he kept attention of Dick and on him, give the guy room to act. That, and he suspected he'd have to stay near Ava, ready to act when she did something – and he rather expected her to do something. And soon. Something dramatic and dangerous, he suspected.

With Ava it couldn't be anything but dangerous. He just wished he knew what was going on in that mind of hers.

* * *

" **They** want _what?"_ Wally asked in disbelief from beneath his Flash uniform.

Bruce studied him for a moment before he answered, acutely aware of the stares of the other senior members on the roof with them. "There are several dead drops around the city. Each have been assigned to collect the item and bring it back here, untampered. If any around found tampered they shoot a hostage. More, if it's been seriously touched. I suspect they'll have some sort of lead to stop Superman looking into any of them. Have a go but do nothing else."

Superman nodded grimly. "I agree. We can't assume these people won't start shooting hostages. Still, this does seem like a strange request."

Bruce exhaled slowly. There was one more thing he had to say but he didn't want to. Some of the others tended to become emotional when certain facts came into play. He didn't want them distracted by getting emotionally invested. It was hard enough for him knowing that Dick was inside, that if the League did one step wrong his old student could end up with a bullet in his head. If he mentioned that Bart, Wally's old ally and friend, and his own adopted daughter, Ava, was inside…He didn't trust Wally not to become emotional and try a rescue. If he did that and they started shooting. Well, Bruce didn't trust himself not to do something to Wally – he wouldn't kill him. He'd leave the League before he did that. But it'd destroy any relationship he had with the League.

He glanced at the club. The club had been chosen well – a little _too_ well. Did this group know of who some of the hostages were to the League? Was it just coincidence or intentional? Instinct nudged him to the latter. He didn't believe in coincidences, not ones so neat as this.

"There are a hundred and fifteen hostages in there. Let's ensure all of them get out tonight," he said, without looking back.

One by one he heard them leave until Wally remained. He knew what Wally was about to ask and that Bruce would have to lie. It was unavoidable. He'd deal with the fallout of the decision later, bearing whatever anger and pain his friend handed out. Willingly and without argument. He certainly wouldn't apologise for it, regardless of whatever Wally had to say on the matter.

"How is she?"

"The same as last time. She's here in Gotham," he said.

Wally froze. "Really?"

Gotham was the closest she'd gone to Central City in five years. Everything else had been at least half a dozen states over – or in another country completely. She'd somehow attained a legal passport on her own and travelled on the money she earned at clubs. To Bruce she never stayed anywhere more than a few months. Half the time however it was like she dropped off the face of the planet. For almost the first two years after she ran off he only found brief traces of her – the occasional picture but nothing concrete. Then she surfaced properly and seemed to flit about the world, moving from job to job.

Bruce nodded. "You better head off. There is an hour to get this done."

"What about you?" Wally asked.

"I have my own meeting. Follow the instructions. If everyone follows the rules we should be done by midnight," said Bruce.

With a nod Wally blurred off. Bruce let out a breath of relief. It was a bullet dodged. Turning his focus to the club he studied from the outside. His gaze traced the roaring twenties exterior. Since it's golden age birth little had changed from the brick façade and the retro signage. He knew from the few times he'd been inside it had been remodelled a dozen times or so to keep up with the times, that Barvolli had purchased the club thirty years ago. That Max, Dick's brief lover, had worked at the same club. It was Dick visited every Friday, staying till close. It was the shift Max had once worked. Bruce had once pushed him to stop going but gave up. When it came down to it Dick could be as stubborn as him.

He dropped down onto the street, feeling the cool air brush against his chin. It swept across the road, stirring up faint flurries of dust and rubbish, tumbling into the gutters like a muddy wave of rubbish. The wind fell dead as he reached the front door. Around him the city seemed to fall dead silent, the distant sounds gone. It was as though the city itself had sucked in a breath and held it, waiting for him to enter, to discover what awaited him within. To learn why he'd been chosen to go inside.

Before his hand brushed the door it opened before him. A bald-headed man awaited him, impassive and unassuming. Heavily armed with a rifle he didn't aim it at Bruce but it sent a message. The others were just as armed.

"Your belt," said the man, one hand out.

Reluctantly, Bruce handed it over, not before he tapped a code on the inside, ensuring that they couldn't access the contents. It wasn't the end of the world. His suit still had some tools he could use and he could fight his way out. Still, he was determined to follow the rules – for now. At the first sure sign of betrayal, which he already expected, he was ready to act.

Satisfied with the belt the man ushered him inside. The fact he wasn't being shoved or hissed orders to behave demonstrated that these guys believed they were in total control. Bruce remained silent as they led him down a dark hallway, lit only by intervals of dim, flickering lights. The man pushed on a final door and led Bruce into the main club floor. Immediately he was struck by all the hostages clustered in small groups about the floor, some quivering in fear, others strangely unruffled by being hostages. The armed men, at least thirty or so – a surprising number – patrolled by the groups, the guns loaded and actioned, ready to shoot. Still, some hostages didn't even to bat an eyelid at this, like it was just another day at work.

He was led over to a booth close to the stage. In the corner of his gaze he saw Dick, who nodded to him that he was okay. As he sat down he glimpsed Bart watching him with surprise. Beside Bart it was Ava who watched him with an intense gaze, like she was making her mind up about him, about what she was going to do. That girl has far too cunning. She had a dark streak in her, a flare for chaos. As a kid she'd been destructive and wild. Looking at her in person for the first time in years he saw that same fire in her eyes, that same stormy spirit.

A moment later he was joined by a masked man, whose exposed mouth twisted into a smile as he sat down. "Hello Batman. So good you could join us. I do trust the others are following the instructions as well? I'd so hate to start shooting hostages because the League didn't follow the rules."

He said the last part just loud enough for a few hostages to overhear and whisper about it. Clever man. Bruce stared back at him.

"Why am I here?"

"To watch and learn. You are going to play a very big part in what comes next," he said conversationally.

"And what is that?"

The man smiled at him. "All in good time. You will learn it soon enough. For now, wait."

It wasn't the answer Bruce wanted but it was a start. Clearly this man was being employed to fulfil a service. The question was if he knew anything about his employers and, if so, what it'd take for him to talk. Was the man being paid enough to keep silent? What would it take for him to talk? Bruce knew after the hostages were out he'd have to track the man down, providing his current employers didn't silence him permanently after tonight, and find out what he knew. If he couldn't find it out tonight.

The man glanced at Bruce. "I have a question. A hypothetical question before we continue." When Bruce inclined his head slightly forward the man continued on. "Say two men stood before you; both desperate, both needing your help but one had blood on his hands, the other didn't. What would you do?"

"I have to choose one or the other?"

The man smiled. "I never said that."

"Then I'd help."

"Both?"

"Yes."

The man sighed, disappointed. He looked to the crowd. "I wish you hadn't lied. Had you been honest this might've been different."

Before Bruce could question what he meant the man snapped his fingers. In a flash one of the men had dragged a hostage to their feet. The world slowed to a crawl as Bruce saw their face, saw the panic flare in the eyes he once saw blaze with a terrifying fire. Bruce let out a shout as Ava was dragged forward. Another raised the gun. A second later there was a crack of thunder as the gun fired.

Ava went rigid, her eyes widening. For a moment she seemed to teeter on her feet before she crumpled to the ground. Bart scrambled over, yelling her name. The men made no move to stop him as he dragged Ava into his arms. Bruce was about to act but the guns were all raised, each aimed at the hostages. The man turned to him and smiled.

"I'd think carefully about lying to me again, Batman."

* * *

 **In** his arms Ava slowly slipped away. Her pulse fluttered faintly. She'd already fallen unconscious, despite him calling her name, gently shaking her. The blood had already soaked through her clothes and started to pool beneath her. His own hands were warm with her blood. He brushed the hair from her already too-cool face, slick with a thin sheen of sweat across her brow.

If she didn't get to a hospital soon she'd be dead. Simple as that. He considered blurring her out but if he did and people died he'd never forgive himself. Neither would she. For all her faults he somehow suspected she'd be furious she was saved at the expense of others.

Across the room Batman had grown still. Clearly something had gone wrong in that talk. One moment everything seemed fine, then the man had a look of irritation and disappointment. In the next breath Ava was shot. Clearly Batman had slipped, had something wrong but what?

The man stood suddenly again. Bart readied himself to act, to stop another person from being shot. He shifted onto his haunches. In the corner of his gaze he saw Dick shake his head, begging him not to act. He drew a deep breath. A gun was raised.

" _No,"_ breathed a musical voice – as if from everywhere at once.

Ava's eyes suddenly snapped open, void of colour, blazing pure white – like there was a light inside of her. Her skin started to glow, the light intensifying. Bart went to move to her but she flipped to her feet. The guns snapped to her. Fingers crept to the triggers. She raised her arms suddenly and opened her hands. In a flash of blazing light the guns dissolved into thin air – then the men froze. She snapped her fingers and they turned robotically around, departing one by one until only the leader remained. She strode towards him. It was clear he wanted to run but he couldn't. He was frozen. Everyone was. Bart tried to speak, too but his mouth was locked, his body rigid. He could only watch as she stopped before the man. She reached out and touched his cheek.

When she pulled her hand back he crumpled to the ground, breathing faintly. She turned to Batman.

"You are all going to die, soon. The League will fall. Earth will burn."


	8. Chapter 8

_Max stared at the great expanse of the universe before her, the ever-changing ebb and flow of energy. She saw the planets and their people, marvelled at the suns they circled and the moons that shadowed them. Billions upon billions upon billions of souls, some warring, others resting peacefully. The endless chaotic beauty of it all stunned Max._

 _Then, from the very centre of it all, stirred something primal and ancient. It called out and from within Max herself came an answer._

" _And so it begins."_

 **Chapter 8 Examination**

" _ **You're**_ saying you just put her in there? She didn't resist?" Ellia asked, studying the footage of the cell with increasing interest. "Just like that?"

"Don't sound so sceptical," replied Green Lantern, the newest recruit of the GL corps. "Once we had her in a sphere it was _easy_ to move her. Then we took her here and she hasn't moved since."

Ellia tuned out as Flash appeared. He strode straight past GL and went to the monitor; there, he froze, and stared at the screen. From where she stood she saw his shoulders tighten, his whole body pulse with a darkness. No one else could see it but she could. What was it about this girl that, in a blink, troubled him? Then she pulled herself up. Why did she care? Why was she even here? These people weren't her family. They weren't her friends. Given the chance she rather suspected none of them would be emotional if, one day, she simply vanished.

In the ominous silence of the viewing room she imagined simply blinking out. GL was too wrapped up in seeming like he knew what half the controls on the desk before them meant. Flash was consumed by the video footage and Ellia was about to leave when the door behind her slid open. She turned. It was Batman, followed closely by a masked Bart Allen. In his Impulse uniform, modified for his adult frame, he still reminded Ellia of the youth she met twenty years ago.

"Any change?" Batman asked, looking directly at GL.

The new hero blinked, looking more bewildered than anything for a moment. Then he shook his head, a shadow of solemness passing over his face. For a moment there was a glimmer of what he might be in the future, rather than the joking, doe-eyed GL before Ellia.

Flash turned suddenly to them and blurred to the door, half turning back to Batman. "A word."

The two of them slipped out. GL took his leave, too but Ellia doubted it was to join the conversation outside. Ellia went to Impulse's side, silent as she regarded him. With guarded eyes he watched the girl on the screen, saying nothing. His silence said it all. She didn't judge him for it. For as long as she had known him he had been quick to love. He wore his heart on his sleeve. Usually. At that moment there was a shadow of hesitation in his eyes.

In the quiet of the room the two of them watched on, silent and trapped by their own thoughts.

* * *

" **Why** the hell is my daughter in a cell, Batman?" Wally asked, his eyes blazing.

Bruce regarded him calmly from beneath his own mask. "You read the report. This is just until your daughter reasserts control."

" _If,_ " breathed Wally, his eyes downcast, full of secrets and guilt. After a moment those eyes flickered back up to Bruce, warring with several decisions before him. "She'll come out. When she does…"

"Do you want to see her?"

Wally clearly looked like he'd want nothing more but shame filled those eyes. Slowly, regretfully, he shook his head and sighed. The estrangement of the past five years and likely all the damaged past that had been prior weighed heavily on Wally. Heavier than anything before. What had Wally done to drive such a collosal wedge between he and his daughter? Before that moment Bruce hadn't asked, partly out of respect for privacy, and partly because it hadn't been relevant. Yet Ava's arrival and shocking powers changed that. If Ava accepted the help to be trained, to be helped, then she'd cross Wally's path eventually. Bruce didn't know Ava but who was to say how she'd react? Would she lash out violently in an attempt to deepen the divide? Or simply bolt in the opposite direction, untrained in whatever power currently controlled her? Power like that was dangerous to so many people, particularly if untrained.

And as for the threat on the League? He needed Ava to stay, if only to help unravel what she meant by it. Whether it was a premonition, not that he liked trusting in those too much.

"I need to know if there will be any problems, if she chooses to stay," inquired Batman neutrally, his own words with several silent questions.

Wally looked away. "I'll keep my distance. If I do that she'll stay."

"I have to ask-"

"What happened?"

Bruce nodded. "Yes."

"It's a long, complicated and messy history for another day." Wally froze for a moment, his eyes shutting as if in pain; after a pause they snapped open. "Ava will be awake soon." Without another word Wally blurred away.

Bruce returned to the viewing room. He paused by the doorway, lingering as he watched Ellia and Impulse. Ellia was at least a decade or possibly older than Impulse yet they looked scarcely a day apart in age. Their heads were bent slightly towards each other, their bodies reflecting different states of mind. Where Impulse was tense and impatient, restless to see Ava – the one trapped – it was Ellia who seemed curious, leaning faintly forward.

"Ellia," he called out and, as she turned he beckoned to the door. "With me."

She glanced back at Impulse for a moment, then shook her head and followed Batman out. As he strode down to the elevator he heard the patter of her feet behind him, trailing quietly. If she was curious as to where she was going she hid it. In typical Rewire fashion she observed, she decided and then she acted. At the end of the hall they stepped into the elevator. Ellia stood aside as he swiped his hand over the controls and they went down. It didn't last long and the elevator soon whirred open. Batman strode through and Ellia quickly followed. At the entrance to the cells Batman stopped and looked at Ellia.

"I asked you to stay because of the nature of your abilities," he began slowly. "I need to see if you can tell me anything."

She regarded him for a moment, then nodded slowly and followed him inside. The only cell occupied pulsed with a dull glow. Batman lingered half way to the cell, letting Ellia drift forward, as if drawn by the light. With each step her own body began to glow, as if her own powers were responding to the call of Ava's – two kindred spirits reacting. He moved beside her and froze.

Ellia's eyes had turned white.

* * *

 **Nitri** sat in the shadowy office, surrounded by boxes of her weapons and her equipment. She was alone, which was best. Her mood had only soured, even as the items she'd requested had come without issue. It was all too easy. The whole thing set her on edge. She'd scrutinised every file on her target, on both of them, as it turned out. Two targets, not one. She scanned the documents. How had _two_ escaped? No, one hadn't even been captured like Ava. The other had simply slipped through the net.

That's what bothered her the most.

Behind her the door clicked open. She didn't turn her head. The cameras she'd secretly arranged about the warehouse, more for her own awareness, told her Agent Marlow had come. Despite Nitri's strict orders to be left alone. She clenched her fists, willing her temper to dwindle, for that raging fire to quiet.

"I said I did not want to be disturbed," said Nitri in a low, icy voice, cold enough to freeze a planet. "Or did that order escape you?"

"We've found something. One of your traps was scans uncovered something," said Marlow in a remarkably calm voice, as Nitri's own rage was nothing more than a child's tantrum.

Nitri spun around on her chair, eyes flickering with a tempered surprise. She'd set her scans to look for very specific things across the entirety of the internet, dark or otherwise. That, and she'd set out other types of scans – more elemental and energy-based types. The former would be triggered by many individuals but if the secondary was triggered as well – well, that'd mean her target had tripped up.

"Which one?" Nitri carefully hid her interest.

Marlow looked a little uneasy. "Um, all of them."

" _All?"_ The chances of both types traps being triggered was rare but every single trap to be triggered seemed like a colossal error on her target's part. It seemed monumentally lucky for someone who didn't believe in luck. Was Ava really that stupid? Or was it an open declaration?

"What would you like us to do?"

"Nothing. I'll see to it," said Nitri as she stood to her feet, moving her documents into neat piles. She turned to Marlow, who stared at her expectantly. "Yes?"

"You're part of a team. Remember that," she said softly.

Nitri paused and stared back, her eyes flickering tempestuously. "That sounds like a threat."

Marlow turned and strode to the door. There, she paused, half turned back. "It is what you make of it."

When Marlow was gone it took several deep breaths for Nitri not to storm in there and shred the others. Tear them limb from limb. She'd done everything that was ever asked of her and still they'd saddled her with _babysitters_ on her first real mission out. Like she was incapable. She wasn't. She was Savage's finest soldier. It seemed, however, few seemed to grasp that concept.

She carefully paced her room for several minutes longer before she calmed enough to go out. With a deep breath she strode into the next room, acutely aware of the eyes that followed her. Ignoring them she went to the computer set up on the far wall and sat down, setting to work. Closing her eyes she drew on her power, sinking into the tugging streams of energy that flowed around her. She drifted into the computer seamlessly and began to work. Carefully, she examined each trap and the findings, pouring over every detail. When she was gone she slowly withdrew, letting the energy slowly ebb back within the walls she'd built. As the last bit of energy trickled into place she opened her eyes and saw the reflection of the others in the screens.

"It would seem an unknown element has appeared. For now, we sit tight. She's out of our reach," informed Nitri, studying each of their reflections, wondering if any would doubt her. It wouldn't surprise her.

"I didn't think anywhere was out of our reach," murmured Marlow.

Nitri spun in her chair. "She's in the care of the League right now. My guess is they're keeping her until she's out of that trance. Then I imagine they'll try to recruit her – or they'll offer some aid to her."

"If she's with the League how will we get to her?"

"She can't stay with them forever. She won't. From what we know she's a 'free spirit'. Her own nature will betray her. Besides, from what we know about her, she'll leave at some point and when she does we'll be ready."

Marlow didn't seem entirely convinced.

Nitri raised her chin and stalked back into her room. There was plans to make and if she stayed in that room any longer she was liable to add to her body count.

* * *

 **Bart** watched her from the other side of the energy field, waiting. Even Ellia's strange interaction hadn't so much as stirred a response. Ellia had simply come out of her trace, murmured an apology and fled with a dazed look in her eyes. Bart had caught her in the hallway on his way down. He couldn't forget the haunted look in her eyes.

As he stared at Ava now he wondered what Ellia had seen. What was inside Ava that scared Ellia? In all the years he'd known Ellia she'd never shown anything but the coldest reserve and critical gaze. Nothing but composed, confident and proud. She even gave Batman a run for his money in the stoic department.

"Are you even in there, Ava?" He whispered, his voice floating eerily amongst the faint buzz of electricity. "You have to be. I don't believe anyone could control you. You're too bloody stubborn."

Ava stared back at him, her eyes as indifferent as before, blazing white. She gave no indication she even heard him. He sighed. They were strangers. Five years had set out a divide between them. Before, he'd distanced himself from the girl, seeing _that_ look in her eyes. Now, as very much a woman, her gaze was impossible to read, her mind a puzzle. She spoke with a fire she didn't hide anymore, a confidence she displayed proudly.

"A fate bound to a course preordained," murmured an unfamiliar, ghostly voice – right from Ava.

Bart froze **. "** What did you say?"

Ava seemed to turn her head a fraction to him. "When it emerges from its age old slumber a force must rise and a price must be paid. Do not attach yourself to that which does not belong to you."

"Ava doesn't belong to you."

Slowly, Ava exhaled, a thin steam of energy drifting off her. "You have been warned. Continue at your peril."

The light suddenly died from her eyes, normal irises colouring back. Ava sucked in a shaking breath, then her eyes rolled back in her head. Then she began to scream. Agony tore from her mouth, sharp and ear-splitting, ragged against her throat. She crumpled to the floor, writhing like a creature possessed. Through her hagged screams came broken cries for the pain to stop.

Bart disabled the wall and blurred in, bundling her up into his arms. She thrashed like a wildcat but he held on, blurring her out of the room, right up several levels to the ward. The second he rushed in their only on call doctor, a young woman of thirty or so, froze for a second; instinct surged within her as she rushed over. She quickly tapped a ear-piece and fired off commands, then turned to Ava, whom Bart had laid out on a bed.

"Hold her down," ordered the doctor, rushing back with a syringe in hand.

As Ava screamed with a pain that shredded him inside the doctor drove the syringe into her and plunged the contents into her. In a flash, Ava stilled, her eyes falling shut. She fell limp against the bed, her breathing soft and steady.

"Is she okay now?"

"I've sedated her. You'll need to step out. I want to run some tests to be sure," she said, dismissively; after a pause, she added with a glance to the door, to the distant sound of a wailing alarm. "You better let the others know what just happened. I don't want to be disturbed."

"Let me know when she wakes, okay?"

The doctor turned to him. "Are you her partner? Or family?"

Friend, he suspected, wasn't a good enough reply. He looked away. "No."

In the corner of his gaze he watched her eyes soften. "Is there any family within the League?"

"None that she'd want around – trust me."

For a moment she appeared to want to push the matter but eventually nodded, understanding. Bart withdrew, not before casting a final look back at Ava. Still as the dead, glowing faintly.

* * *

 **Tate** sat in the dark of a shabby 80's looking apartment, nursing a glass of whiskey from a stolen bottle and his silencer on his lap. Shadows danced amongst the moonlight splashed across the carpet, patterned with the half-broken blinds, moving softly in the breeze spilling in. He had to crack the window. The apartment wreaked of something dead and mouldy food. He drew the glass to his nose, savouring the smell in his nose as it overpowered the rancid stench around him. Closing his eyes for a moment he enjoyed a small sip, swirling it liberally on his tongue before swallowing. He quickly finished the remainding and set the glass aside.

With a sigh he glanced at his watch and frowned. His target was late, which was strange given how punctual they were meant to be. Tate's sources were never wrong. Instinct stirred within, his senses sharpening. The second trouble came he'd vanish. It'd do no good to really be seen, especially if it was by people hunting _him_ – or Ava.

A little over thirty minutes later when Tate began to seriously contemplate leaving there was a faint jangle of keys beyond the door. He stilled. A familiar cold calmness washed over him, steadying him. The door cracked open, a stirring wind fluttering in, as a cloaked man shuffled in, clutching a brief case in one hand, holding a phone to his ear in the other.

"I told you, _no._ I won't do it, Max. Not this time," he said, hurriedly as he shut the door behind him, locking it. He paused, likely noticing the cleaner smell and the breeze, and slowly turned around.

Tate flicked on the lamp beside him and pointed the gun with a wicked smile, gesturing with his now free hand to the phone. Slowly, the man murmured a goodbye and hung up.

"Who the hell are you?" The man asked, a thread of fear in his voice.

With a chuckle Tate leaned forward. "Someone you're going to tell all your little secrets to. Come little bird, sing me a song."


End file.
